The Soulmate Series: Book One: Without You
by TrialLunatic
Summary: Set in Norse backdrop. Alternate Universe in which two soulmates still manage to meet each other. A young girl is rescued from a sacked village by a mysterious warrior. Years go by before the same girl meets the warrior again. Yes, it's X/G.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Set in Norse backdrop. Alternate Universe in which two soulmates still manage to meet each other. A young girl is rescued from a sacked village by a mysterious warrior. Years go by before the same girl meets the warrior again. Yes, it's X/G.

**Disclaimer and author's note:**

I do not own Xena and Gabrielle, but this is an alternate universe, so all other characters are somewhat of my creation. Any resemblances to any familiar characters could as much be coincidental as it is intentional. As far as I know, I'm not making any money off this either.

I do not claim to be historically, geographically or culturally accurate or correct on any account. I write for the pure joy and romanticism of writing. If you are a knowledgeable person and would like to impart some cool historical accuracy stuff on me, I'd be more than glad to receive it.

As for contents, there is a likelihood of graphic violence and other types of mature content (such as love between two consenting females), so read at your own risk of finding or not finding what you expect.

Also, I've included songs I was listening to, or thought of during my writing of the different scenes. I do not own nor have created any of these songs, but feel free to ask me for more info if you like them.

* * *

**Xena: Warrior Princess**

**Soulmate Series: Book One (Without You)  
**

**SCANDINAVIA**

**Chapter 1**

The village was on fire.

Though the massive pyre should've brought warmth to those who sought refuge against the blistering winter air, the fire raged forth with such fierce intensity that all it did was add to the agony of blood-curdling screams and moans of devastation. The meager freckles of snow did nothing to satiate the fire's hunger as it tore through villas after villas, devouring all in its path.

It was unfortunate to say that the villagers were fairing no better than their settlements. Their bodies were seared – burnt if not eviscerated or decapitated already, or having suffered any combination of the three. The less fortunate ones were included in other forms of mutilation and their remnants lay scattered across the muddied snow, staining the ground and the air with the pungent scent of blood and excrements.

Still, the one thing that would remain the liveliest in her mind would be the screams.

The Raiders were merciless and indiscriminate about whom they slay, especially since the village they were invading was minuscule compared to the previous ones. It was unfortunate for this small village that these barbarians had still made it up to their own standards in terms of the magnitude of carnage. Because for every piece of metal a husband failed to give, his wife would be raped. For every livestock the families failed to present, their children were taken and handled as meat instead.

A girl, almost old enough to be called a woman, watched in silent dismay from the window of her home. Her heart was beating very fast with paralyzing fear and it was filled with worry. Yet, she knew that they had no place to run; it would be safer to stay inside as long as she remained unseen. If she attempted to flee, she'd be caught almost instantly and would have countless unbearable things inflicted upon her.

Her fingernails dug into the wood of the windowsill and for a moment, she felt an intense anger towards the injustice of it all. The unfairness of being so weak and so helpless.

The only other person in the house at that moment was her mother, who had slowly and yet as courageously as a mother could, crept towards the window. With a protective hand, she gently grabbed the young woman's shoulder and guided her away. She was starting to feel altogether numb from all the violence she saw, and she leaned against her mother wide-eyed while she felt her long flaxen-red hair being stroked by a shaky hand.

"Don't worry, Gunnhild, we're going to be fine. You'll see." The mother said, though she didn't even sound confident enough to convince herself. It was only a matter of time before the raiders reached their area and they both knew it. She only prayed that her daughter's death would be quick and painless once it came.

"Do you think Papa's alright?" Gunnhild whispered, afraid that the raiders would hear her despite the chaos outside.

"Your papa's a strong and intelligent man – he will come back for us." She thought of her husband, who was at the market at the time their town walls had been breached. The people at the market were among the first to die, but the woman felt that giving her daughter false hope was better than to give none at all.

A strident scream prevailed over the general cacophony, only a few feet from the front of their house, and was followed by the flat sound that a body made when hitting ground. Gallops thundered nearby and shook the ground beneath mother and daughter, making their heads jerk in all direction like a panicked nest of young rodents. Then both women stood petrified, holding their breaths their front door burst open and three dark men stomped in – one of them had immediately spotted them. It could've been her imagination, but Gunnhild could've sworn she saw blood dripping from his slacking jaw, no doubt coming from his mouth, but there was too much to be all his.

"Go!" Her mother's scream had caught both her and the Raiders off-guard, and before she knew it, she was shoved out of the window. The last glimpse of her mother she had was the Raider lunging and grabbing the older woman by the throat, crushing her body against the wall.

"Get the girl!" The man who held the mother yelled at one of his companions as he turned back towards her with a savagely greedy smile.

Gunnhild had barely had time to recover from tumbling out the window before her mother's gurgling screams resounded from the inside. She scrambled to a stance and tried to decide what to do even though she was barely able to reflect coherently. Her heart told her to go back, but as soon as she saw one of the raiders appear at the front door, instinct told her to run.

And run she did, grabbing the bulk of her dress, she fled. She wore no shoes, but the cold kept her from feeling feet. Despite her best efforts, she could hear the man – or rather, what she felt was a beast closing in fast behind her. Before she realized it, she was on the ground and she gave out a yelp of both pain and surprise. She tried kicking and thrashing while the larger man attempted to grab hold of her feet. When his hand had found its grip tightly around one of her ankles, she felt almost instantly that she was doomed. Still she struggled, clawing at the dirt as she was being dragged across the ground backwards, pebbles and branches biting through her clothing and into her skin.

As she was being dragged back where she ran from, more yelling and screaming ensued from a distance, but Gunnhild recognized it to be of a different sort. She hadn't consciously noticed at first, but when her aggressor had let go his hold of her, she lifted her head to look about as well. All of a sudden, the raiders were the ones doing the screaming and the fleeing, and the source of their panic came from the group of men on horseback chasing them. Their cries were unlike the hoarse, savage shrieking of the raiders; they were roars of valiance and glory – animalistic in their own way, yet humble and powerful. They swept through the village rapidly as they took down the infesting raiders by the dozens. Though their efforts were great, Gunnhild knew that there wasn't much left of the village to salvage. Feeling her current aggressor climbing on top of her and pressing her further into the soiled ground with his heavy form, she realized that she wasn't going to live for very long either way.

Lifting her head as a last plea to the gods, she saw someone riding towards her, atop a steed possessing the colors of a field of wheat that shone proudly like the winter sun. She couldn't tell clearly the expression on the warrior's face, since it was occluded by the nose and cheek guards of his helmet, but she thought she noticed, even in that frantic moment, a sneer of disgust he directed at the raider.

As they closed in on them, Gunnhild tentatively looked through the eyeholes of the helmet. The sight of his fiery blue gaze sent a shiver down her spine, and for a moment she paused, her fear of death suddenly gone. In a matter of a second however, the warrior broke off the stare, as he held out his sword and focused instead on the enemy. Gunnhild ducked as soon as the saw the large blade the warrior held, and she was almost at once freed of the raider's imposing weight, while the raider was felled by the blow. The large man was thrown back with such speed and force that he only made a gasping 'hurk' sound as he crashed into the mud and remained completely still.

Gunnhild pushed herself up and looked in awe as the warrior rode past her towards more raiders, his long, dark, wavy mane billowed in the wind, with a tress flapping down the middle at the back of his head as he moved in such a way that made it seemed as though his horse was merely an extension of his legs. He fought with such skill and swiftness that the three raiders barely had time to register what had happened to them before they hit the ground, dead.

Transfixed, Gunnhild watched until another warrior rode by her, this one had long light-brown hair and a large beard. His hazel eyes fixed down upon her with concern.

"Are you alright, miss?"

"Y-yes." Gunnhild barely managed, realizing she was strangely breathless but not certain from which event.

The man nodded, and rode on to fight the rest of the raiders, who were now retreating in great numbers.

Gunnhild tried to get up, but yelled out in pain. She must have injured one of her legs while struggling against the raider who was after her. Lifting her skirt, she inspected her legs and was relieved to find nothing deformed. Perhaps it was just a sprain, but it was nevertheless still painful.

Things around the village began to quiet down as the chaos subsided, the houses that were burning were just about burned out and the ones who were suffering before were now mostly dead. Gunnhild was still in the middle of finding something to prop herself up with when she heard a horse trotting near her. Looking up, she saw the dark-haired warrior who had saved her earlier, and he held out a hand with long slender fingers. He had hunched over to reach for her. Slowly and unsurely, Gunnhild reached up, and as she grabbed a firm hold of his forearm, the warrior pulled her from the ground, to the top of his horseback behind him.

Then he kicked the horse and they galloped towards the gathering of the other warriors. Gunnhild reflexively held on to his waist but only gingerly; she was afraid to offend yet more afraid to fall. The warrior didn't seem to take notice either way.

"Torvald," Said one of the older blonde men in greeting to the warrior bringing Gunnhild. The blonde warrior's slightly aged face showed in what little was revealed of his features underneath his less conservative helm. His flaxen beard was divided into three distinct braids.

Torvald merely nodded, not saying a word of greeting in return. Gunnhild looked around at what seemed to be about twenty men, all on horseback and armored with either thick fur and leather or metal that gleamed. They all sat proudly on their steed, each carrying either a woman or a child with them. Whoever they couldn't carry on their horse stood near them, and the young woman soon realized as despair settled in that they were all that was left of her village.

"So where are we going to bring them? Back to our village?" Asked the man Gunnhild recognized as the one who inquired of her wellbeing earlier.

"Nay, Halfreor. It is too far, and they are too many." Objected one of the younger men, also dark-haired, sporting a short beard.

As the warriors entered a discussion, Gunnhild noticed that the warrior she sat with was the only one who hadn't grown a beard. As a matter of fact, his frame seemed to be so much smaller than the others even while wearing armor. Was her rescuer simply a boy, perhaps even younger than she was? He had such amazing strength and prowess however, that it was hard to believe. But perhaps this would explain his name, Torvald, which signified "Thor the Ruler". No one would dare name their child after a god unless they were nearly like one. This might also explain the fact that he didn't speak; perhaps he was not experienced enough to be allowed to share his opinions yet but he was strong enough to fight.

Still, something wasn't right. The eyes that Gunnhild had stared into earlier showed such maturity. Perhaps what they say was right, that war aged one a lot faster than one should be.

The warriors began riding slowly as the villagers who were on foot followed. Some had enough gotten off their horses and led them by their reigns, yielding their seats to some of the more shook up villagers.

* * *

Before she knew it, they were already in another village. In which direction they had headed, she didn't know.

Somewhat embarrassed that she had fallen asleep against the young warriors back, pressing against his soft dark hair, Gunnhild quickly sat back straight. No doubt the events earlier had made her more tired than she thought, and the rhythmic pacing of the horse was in a way calming. The warrior turned his head slightly in acknowledgement that she was awake, and she thought she had caught a hint of a smirk at the edge of his lips.

The village they entered was peaceful, unscathed. It seemed a lot bigger than the one Gunnhild had lived in, and the people there did not seem to mind the small populace moving into town. As the group moved, children milled about them, giggling and greeting them while their parents admonished them to leave the visitors in peace while they went about their daily chores. The group soon arrived at a clearing at the centre of town where a council of men and women stood in discussion, but upon seeing them, received them with warm and welcoming smiles.

"Olvir!" One of the men with graying hair stepped forwards from the group as Olvir dismounted. "It is always a pleasure to see you, cousin! What can I do for you?"

"Their village had succumbed to the wrath of the raiders, cousin." Olvir said gravely as he gestured towards the group behind him with one hand, "they need new homes, and another chance at a new life."

"We will be more than happy to receive them," the other man said, his voice tinged with a dash of sorrow out of respect for the survivors from Gunnhild's village. "We have room to spare and plenty of resources, we can even start building new houses for those who are old enough to live alone."

"Thank you, cousin." Olvir said with great gratitude as the two men joined hands to shake warmly and respectfully. Then, the leader signaled for the group to help the villagers get off their horses. "I will leave their fates in your hands."

"They will be taken care of."

Gunnhild watched the discussion from a distance when the leader of the group signaled to them. At this, Torvald dismounted the horse and extended a hand once again to her, this time to help her down. She hit the ground unsteadily and was reminded of the pain in her leg, but Torvald quickly came forward to help her stand once again. His mannerism was gentle, entirely unreflective of the fury he had unleashed earlier during battle. Once he made sure she was able to stand by herself, he climbed back on to the horse, pulling the reigns to turn around.

"Wait!" Gunnhild called out to him before he had gotten too far, and he stopped, bringing the reigns around to face her. "Will I ever see you again?" She asked and her voice came out somewhat sad and a bit shaky. Since the raid, Gunnhild felt that Torvald came closest to being the only person she knew now.

He didn't say anything in response. Instead, she saw the thinning of his lips as if he was trying to offer an apologetic smile. Searching his eyes, even from such distance, Gunnhild thought she saw a hint of sadness and reluctance in the pale blues underneath his dark brows.

Then without warning, he reared his horse around again, and trudged away along with the rest of his companion warriors. Gunnhild watched as their forms slowly shrunk into the distance and for the first time since the raid had started, she felt tears rolling down her face.

"Come on child," Said a woman who appeared from one of the closer households, and who put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Nodding without really knowing it, Gunnhild let herself be guided towards one of the houses.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

That winter had ended, while two more had passed uneventfully. Then the summer of the third year since the raid came and this summer, was the one of the Great Tournament.

Every four summers, hundreds of men would gather from all the Northern villages in order to compete with one another in combat. They would fight in teams at the beginning of the tournaments in order to filter out the weaker ones. Later on, as the number of challengers would dwindle, they would fight in trios or in pairs, demonstrating their strength, courage and skills. The losers of each round would drop out from the tournament while winners would move on to the next round, and it proceeded as such until one man would be left the victor. The victory itself was a great honor, a proof of the warrior's worth – that in itself was the prize. Throughout the entire duration of the tournament, a crowd could be gathered around the competitors to watch on and cheer their favorite parties.

People from all the villages also traveled to great lengths, either to attend such an important event or to support their town's hero. Gunnhild's present village was no different; since they were the next closest village, many people of the two villages were related. Though the young woman was not related to anyone by blood, she felt like she had made a new family who loved her dearly even in such a short period of time.

"Hurry up, Father!" cried a young brunette girl, only a bit younger than Gunnhild when she had moved to the village. Her voice was directed towards the house, all the while she hopped up and down in excitement. "If we don't hurry, we're going to miss the opening of the Tournament!" Both her dress and her nut-brown hair bobbed along with the rest of her excited form.

"We would be moving faster, Leeka, if you were to help!" Responded the father good-humoredly, as he carried a giant crate on his right shoulder and dragged another one about the same size out of the house. He walked towards the large chariot that he usually used to bring his crops to the market and loaded the crates onto it. Behind him followed his wife as well as their adopted daughter, Gunnhild. Both women each carried a large basket in their arms as they brought it to the chariot as well.

"And we wouldn't have had to prepare more food if Leeka hadn't eaten so much of it!" added the mother, teasing their daughter just a bit more.

"That's not fair! Gunnhild had some too!" Leeka protested shrilly.

"Only because I didn't want you to get into trouble alone!" laughed Gunnhild while Leeka made a face at her.

"Alright, girls, settle down. Now, that should be the last of it," the father said, as he loaded the baskets as well. "We should get going before we are too far off into the day and we will be able to make it just before the sun falls."

* * *

Better than predicted, the family has made it into the next village a bit before sunset. The family chariot was pulled by a black stallion, its wheels of wood grinding the pebbles and mud rocks beneath it with the weight of the luggage as well as of Leeka and of the mother. Gunnhild trudged alongside her father and the steed, making the most out of what seemed to be such an exhilarating walk. It wasn't often that the family got to go on little journeys and it certainly wasn't the place for girls such as Gunnhild or Leeka to run off on expeditions by their lonesome. Such an adventure, even a small one, pleased her.

The chariot came to a stop before one of the biggest houses in the new town – this one actually made out of stone instead of wood. It seemed to be holding an entirely different floor above ground, and from peeking through the bars in the stone near the ground, one could tell that there was another floor beneath the ground. The entire family stared in awe.

"Well, we best get settled, unless we want to miss the opening of the tournament." The father finally announced, snapping the other three out of their amazement.

"Where is Sigrid, Leif?" the mother asked. "Strange how she hasn't come out to greet us, she usually spots us from many marks away."

"She must already be at the arena, Birna." The father responded calmly, "you know how she always held such an interest in those games and warriors." He added as he began unloading the chariot and bringing thing inside.

Leeka, after having gotten permission in exchange for a promise to behave, leapt off the chariot gleefully and pranced into the house, no doubt with her mind set on exploring the large estate. Birna had decided to make a beeline for the kitchen with means to prepare a meal for the family, as well as their host in order to thank her for receiving them into her home. Gunnhild began grabbing one of the baskets after Leif had dragged off a crate, followed him inside and dropped the basket on the smooth and finely polished wooden floor.

"Who is Sigrid, Father?"

"She is a friend of the family."

"Is she a relative? A cousin?"

"No, she isn't," Leif had wanted to add more to it, given that Gunnhild's natural curiosity always gave him the pleasure of sharing the things he had on his mind. This time however, he hesitated, and had decided against saying anything.

"What is it, Father?" Gunnhild asked, concerned at his lack of response, or rather the interruption of it.

"It's complicated." He finally said, "I will tell you another time. Now go help your mother in the kitchen so we can leave for the Arena sooner."

"I am fine!" Called Birna from somewhere in the back of the villa, somehow overhearing them. "Just take the girls and go to the Arena without me!"

Knowing full well that his wife would give an excuse to avoid watching what she called 'that horrible blood bath of our barbarous men', Leif chuckled out loud. "Alright! We're going!" He soon gathered his two daughters with him and they headed for the arena.

* * *

At the Arena, people were gathered by what seemed like the hundred fold. All three, father and daughters, were easily impressed by the sheer size of the event as well as the number of people present. It looked like they were enough to populate their village twenty times. And their village was actually among of the largest. After some friendly pushing and shoving, as well as apologizing, the three managed to find themselves at one of the front rows of the octagonal shaped arena. The competitors alone had filled out the benches on an entire side of the arena, from the front row all the way to the back.

The rows were all connected to one another all around the octagon shape of the Arena, and were arranged such that as they receded further from the center of the Arena, they also grew higher, so everyone had a fair view of what went on at the center lest their neighbor in front decide to stand up and cheer. For the moment, people were still trying to settle into the area, both competitors and spectators alike. Some barbarians and warriors were still signing up, hauling large leather pouches containing their entry fee onto a wooden table where an older warrior sat and organized the registration.

Once everything seemed to be in place, and once warriors and non-warriors alike took their respective seats, the old warrior walked towards the center of the Arena, followed by twelve fully armored warriors on foot, each holding a long, metallic and intricately designed staff. A single warrior, also geared for battle, followed the moving line slowly on his horse, holding a burning torch. The old warrior made a silencing gesture, bringing upon the desired result with great efficacy and began shouting out to the crowd.

"For many decades now, we have managed to preserve the tradition of our fathers, and our ancestors…" He began, looking around with such authority and he held everyone attention quite firmly. "For every four summer, we gathered our brother and sister villages and we pit together our finest warriors in combat as a sign of respect for our Almighty Odin and his son Thor." He said once again, his eyes gleaming with pride. "And tonight, we hope, will be no different from the ones in the past, as I present to you…" He paused for effect, everyone seemed to strain in their seats. Gunnhild felt a shiver run down her while the old warrior glanced about the audience. She sat in admiration of the sheer energy the elder man was able to deliver through his voice and charisma and only dreamed of one day to capture the ears of so many in much the same way, but by telling stories instead.

Suddenly, the warrior stopped looking around and raised his hands dramatically in the air, then shouted, "The Great Tournament!" With that, the crowd roared, imitating the effects of a never ending thunder. As the older man retreated from the center of the Arena, the warrior on horseback rode forth, circled about the row of men and lit up what are now understood to be long torches rather than staves. As the each torch was successively lit, the holder would wave it to the one standing next to him, connecting with their sparring partner such that they formed pairs. The rhythmic sound of metal hitting metal resounded sharply in the air. Soon the warriors broke out into elaborate schemes and choreographies that amazed and shocked the audience. All this time, the one on horseback rode in circles around the Arena, enticing the crowd to cheer on, a request to which the crowd happily complied. At some point, the warriors formed two lines that led up to the general direction of where Gunnhild sat with her father and sister, and the three watched in wonder as the rider stopped at the far end. The crowd suddenly grew silent in anticipation when all movement stopped.

Gunnhild had not had a chance to focus on the rider thus far; despite sitting so far up front, he had not stopped moving about enough for her to take a good look. There was something vaguely familiar about that flowing black hair and that slim built that tugged at the back of her mind thought she couldn't quite place it. Now that he was at the center of the Arena, facing her, Gunnhild silently gasped.

Images of her burning villages flashed before her, the screaming, the raiders, then her rescuer, reaching down to take her hand, taking her away from it all forever, only to abandon her. At the same moment she had realized this, the rider – Torvald – seemed to have seen her too.

_(Song: __**Bring Me To Life** by __Evanescence)_

His piercing blue eyes, beneath the shadows of his helm seemed to have serendipitously locked onto her emerald greens and widened in surprise. For a split moment, Gunnhild thought she saw what seemed to be a vulnerable part of his soul. But just as quickly, those eyes regained composure and focused for the task at hand.

He kicked his horse, the same golden pastel war horse he rode three winters ago, and as soon as he rode between the two rows of warriors, they began exchanging torches in a flurry of complicated tosses. To add further more complications, two torches soared directly towards Torvald with no intention to miss and the crowd held their breaths as he masterfully bounded from his horse, flipped in the air and landed right back on a few torches down.

The crowd roared once again by the time he had reached the end of the rows, stopping almost directly in front of Gunnhild, who still watched in confusion and disbelief. The men organized into an outward facing circle as he dismounted the horse took a few steps forward. Unbeknownst to anyone else but Gunnhild, his eyes were searching, then staring directly into hers intently, but she couldn't quite read what they conveyed. She saw the same sort of inner turmoil that Gunnhild saw back then. Nevertheless, he seemed just as surprised at seeing her as she was of seeing him. He looked as if he had almost forgotten to stop walking and was going to walk straight towards her and at that moment, Gunnhild inhaled sharply, which made her heart skip a beat.

Probably realizing the mistake he was about to make, he stopped abruptly, cutting off eye contact with Gunnhild and bowed dramatically, signaling the end of the opening act as applauses and cheers were being delivered from all eight sides of the ring. Then all thirteen men quickly retreated.

Realizing that the night was over, everyone began getting up and prepared to head off.

"Did you see that?" the younger sister exclaimed as they followed suit, shaking Gunnhild's sleeve excitedly, "he was staring right at us! It's like he was greeting us personally! Wasn't that amazing?"

"It certainly was," Leif answered agreed, but meant to refer more to the show overall.

"Leeka, you know he was just looking in our general direction," Gunnhild argued, trying to sound realistic though she felt flushed.

"Noooo!" she shrilled. "He was looking right at us! He was! I swear!" Leeka argued as they were on the dirt path on their way back to the villa.

"Gunnhild, just humor your sister, will you?" The father said to her, but she was barely listening and nodded distractedly while Leeka went on further about the details of the performance.

* * *

When they were nearing villa, Leeka, excited as always, rushed off ahead, making some claim about how famished she was. Leif and Gunnhild were following closely behind but at a walking pace. As they got closer, they passed by the storehouse and stables. As they passed the stables, Gunnhild glanced casually inside but what she saw made her halt. Her father hadn't noticed and continued towards the house.

Somewhat incredulous, she stared at the mare now lodging there, with a coat soft like the autumn wheat and mane blonde like the blazing sun. The animal seemed to recognize her too, and stared back in amusement.

"What…" She began muttering, swearing to herself that she recognized the horse. Her fair brows dipped into a frown. She started approaching it, reaching out her hand…

"Gunnhild!" She was suddenly startled, her hand jerking back. She registered the voice belonging to her mother. "Dinner time!"

With another suspicious glance towards the horse, she walked towards the door and entered the villa. The horse puffed out air, almost indignantly at her retreating form, disappointed at the lack of attention.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The following morning, Gunnhild descended from the upper floors all the while yawning and rubbing her eyes. Mornings had never been her thing: she had long made it clear, albeit affectionately, to her family that she would rise with the sun, but she wouldn't shine along with it. Joining her family groggily at the eating table, she plopped down at the seat next to her sister, unawares that she was facing a new presence until her mother had voiced it.

"Gunnhild, this is Sigrid, our friend who was kind enough to let us stay here for the duration of the tournament."

The young woman raised her head to politely address their hostess and was caught by the face of a woman not that much older than herself. The woman smiled warmly at her, lips parting in unrestrained sincerity. Her hair was raven black, and up in a bun, but it could be easily imagined to be wavy, and that no doubt they would drape to the middle of her back if the bun was undone. Her eyebrows were dark as well, thick yet not unfeminine, elegantly sitting over a pair of one of the most brilliantly blue eyes Gunnhild had ever seen. Though the woman was smiling at her, Gunnhild couldn't help from feeling like those shinning pair of orbs saw right through her and deep down into her soul. She felt intimidated.

Realizing that she hadn't said a word for quite some instant now and must've come off as impolite, Gunnhild struggled to get something out. Instead, Sigrid spoke.

"Your mother and father tell me that you are quite the writer, and a storyteller." She stated, but obviously asking for an elaborate response on Gunnhild's part.

"Well, yes… I do that on my spare time…" Gunnhild managed to utter, not sure of what else to say. Though she felt like she was doing a bit too much staring, and looked away.

"So we didn't see much of you yesterday, Sigrid, or at all, as a matter of fact." Leif started, coming to his daughter's rescue in the moment of awkwardness.

"Yes, I apologize." She turned to Leif briefly, "I had to leave early during the day to meet with Olvir and Kalan, then I came in late during the night and I didn't want to wake you." She replied pleasantly, though she still glanced at Gunnhild with great interest.

"Did you see that great warrior on the horse?" Leeka excitedly piped in.

"Yes, he was quite amazing, wasn't he?" Sigrid tried matching the girl's energy in her tone.

"Do you know him too? Do you know his name?" Leeka asked inquisitively. Gunnhild suddenly felt another moment from the past flash before her: first, of her waking up from slumbering on the warrior's back, then from when he helped her off his horse.

"Yes, as a matter of fact! That was-"

"Torvald." Gunnhild said firmly.

Sigrid looked at her, obviously surprised. "Why yes, his name is Torvald. Torvald the Thunder."

* * *

Gunnhild had spent most of the day occupying herself with house chores, but was set on trying to avoid Sigrid. It wasn't that she didn't like the woman; after all, Sigrid was only a few summers older than she so they should have a lot in common. But why was a young woman of her age living alone? And at such a large house? Where was her family? What status did she hold in this town to have such a property? Why does she know all those warriors?

What was it about Sigrid that was bothering her so much? And those eyes, why were they so strangely familiar, yet not?

Gunnhild was brushing off their family horse at the stables while she was lost in her thoughts. She was debating on whether she was going to do the blonde one too as a gesture of gratitude but wondered whether she permission should be asked for first.

"So, do you like horses?" A deep feminine voice she recognized came from behind her and nearly made her drop the brush. It was Sigrid.

"Yes," Gunnhild nodded, now intent on staring at her own hand brushing the black stallion, "Brun has been with us for five winters now. He is quite the reliable one." She smiled, but to no one in particular as she recalled a fond memory. "I still remember the day Father brought him home. He was still quite young back then and his previous owner didn't treat him very well. It seemed like he was frightened of everything." She paused, looking at the horse proudly and patting him affectionately. "We couldn't keep him with the other animals because we didn't want him to overreact and hurt himself or the others. But I knew that he was also terrified of being alone, so Leeka and I sat with him from a distance, all day and all night to keep him company." Gunnhild felt a warm feeling come over her, the kind of comfort she felt whenever she was telling a story. She even felt confident enough to look at Sigrid, the way she would when she wanted to engage her audience. Sigrid smirked, picked up a brush and started brushing the other horse. "He had gotten a lot better since then. He knows that we'd never leave him alone or treat him badly." Gunnhild finished, still contemplating.

"That's a nice story."

"Thank you." Gunnhild set down the brush and tentatively walked towards Sigrid and the other horse, realizing how much taller the woman was compared to her, and how minuscule she felt next her and the horses. "I find that I'm better at telling the ones that are true."

"Or you could just be good at telling stories."

"Maybe…" Gunnhild watched as Sigrid brushed off the horse with such care in every stroke. "Is this Torvald's horse?"

"Yes. I let him keep her here in exchange for being able to ride her every now and then. Her name's Arsol, like the morning sun."

"Seems like a very fitting name."

Sigrid beamed proudly at Gunnhild, almost if she took it as a personal compliment. Gunnhild returned the smile and no longer felt as intimidated and shy as before. Maybe they were going to get along after all.

"So, how do you know Torvald?"

"We… have a lot in common." Sigrid replied, but she looked uncomfortable and changed the subject before Gunnhild could inquire further, "Listen, there's a gathering tonight, in celebration of the opening of the Grand Tournament. It's a masked event. I've already asked your parents, but they rather stay here with Leeka since she's still too young to attend, but they told me that you might be interested. Would you like to come?"

"Oh, I don't know… it might not be my place…" Gunnhild hesitated. Masked events were usually reserved for people who were regarded as holding high places in the village echelon. How Sigrid managed to get invited was beyond her, and how Gunnhild was going to delude herself enough into going wasn't even worth pondering.

"Nonsense! You will be there as my friend, and any friend of mine is invited to the masked gathering without being questioned." Sigrid seemed extremely confident.

"Is Torvald going to be there?" Gunnhild ventured, at the risk of sounding obsessed.

Sigrid raised a single eyebrow and gave Gunnhild an amused look, one that Gunnhild couldn't quite interpret.

"I'd say he'd be there maybe for a little while during the evening."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The people came in great number. The town's Main Hall had been used to organize the Masked Gathering. Gunnhild was amazed by the grandeur of it all; never would she have thought to mingle among so many people of such high places. The men were all in armor and battle gear, though not the ones they usually wore to real battles. Their breastplates, belts and helmets were so finely polished, delicately ornate and devoid or scratches and traces that Gunnhild guessed they must've been ceremonial gear – worn only on special occasions. The women wore elaborately layered dresses, some with colors she had never seen before, some even accessorized with bows or flowers.

The lighting was rather dim but it did nothing to daunt the festive chatter between the guests as well as the music playing as well as noises made by other entertainers. The men's helmets were designed in no way to offer protection from physical assault but posed mere as masks that covered most of their faces. They glinted attractively off the light that draped down from the suspended chandeliers. The women wore masks made out of finely carved wood, also intricately designed and decorated.

Indeed it was hard for Gunnhild to think that she was one of them.

Yet there she was, dressed just as lavishly as the rest, following Sigrid around as she greeted all her friends, smiling politely whenever she was introduced. She doubted she'd recognize any of them the next time when she would encounter them on the streets of this town or at the Arena, which was just as well. They probably wouldn't even spare her as much as a second glance outside of this ball. As much as she was enjoying herself, Gunnhild was already getting bored; there was only one person she was waiting to be introduced to but hasn't made an appearance yet.

"What's the matter?" Sigrid asked, as the couple who was talking to them had just left to mingle with another group. She clearly saw that Gunnhild wasn't enjoying herself, and was concerned.

"Oh nothing," Gunnhild lied, "I'm just getting a bit worn by all the excitement."

But her eyes betrayed her, as they searched through the crowd furtively. She searched for that familiar head of dark hair and those eyes that she just couldn't seem to stop thinking about. Sigrid watched her, also pensive.

"Then how about you rest here a while," The taller woman said, leading her to row of benches lining the wall, "I'm just going to go pay respects to Olvir and Kalan, and then we'll head back."

Gunnhild sat and nodded, losing hope either way and didn't bother to think up an excuse to prolong her stay here. She was starting to feel anxious and out of place, despite the her elaborate disguise. Sigrid gave her a somewhat encouraging and reassuring smile. "I'll be right back."

A while after Sigrid vanished into the crowd, Gunnhild began devising how she would recite the events of the evening to her family once she got back; they would surely love to hear about it all. On a whim, Gunnhild glance up and scanned the crowd again, but this time, her eyes locked onto someone coming into the room. It was him.

_(Song: __**Temptation** by __VAST)_

She felt her breath getting caught in her throat and stood up. Even if he was wearing different armor, and a different helm, she recognized him. She recognized him because of his thick dark hair, his well defined chin and the special way in which he walked. He was lithe he like a feline, and seemed to steal through the floor with such an intense yet graceful manner. Gunnhild was captivated.

Without sensing it entirely, she started moving towards him, eyes never taken off of him. He looked as though he was searching the crowd for someone as well, and when his eyes caught hers, he began moving as well. That made her pause; was he walking towards her?

Before she could answer her own question, he was already only a few steps away and as he moved in, she held her breath, straining to not close her eyes, telling herself that it was really happening and not just a dream. Then he was before her, and she looked up at him, gazing through his helm and into those eyes that she could never seem to forget. It was him, and he was here.

Then panic settled in as Gunnhild fought to find the words. She was so preoccupied with actually finding him again that she never thought of what she would say when she did meet him. She had always wanted to thank him for saving her that day, but didn't know how to start. Or how to say how she wished he had never left her there in that village that day three winters ago, even if her adoptive parents and her sister were as dear to her as if they were her own family. The fact that he didn't speak made her even more nervous. He simply looked at her, expectantly. Finally, realizing that he was probably intimidating her, his gaze broke from hers and Gunnhild sensed his eyes trailing downward.

His hand moved towards hers. His fingers brushed against hers slightly at first, sending a shiver up her spine. He seized her palm gently and Gunnhild found it hard to imagine that he was the fearless warrior who had saved her, the one who was reputed to be so mighty a fighter that they had named him after the God of Thunder. Slowly, he brought her hand up to his lips and he deposited a soft, lingering kiss. It was as if her entire arm had lit on fire.

Without saying a word, he smiled at her, and led her to the dance floor.

* * *

Throughout the entire time, Gunnhild had been afraid to say anything. It was as if she was afraid to wreck the enchanted moment she was sharing with him. Luckily, they didn't need to share a single word. It was as if they were communicating in completely different ways; through their looks, their movements, their smells… and their touch. Every single touch seemed to mean something so much more than any amount of word can express. By the end of the dance, they were holding each other so closely that they seemed form a single gracefully moving form.

When song stopped, he gently pulled away from her and Gunnhild looked up at him dreamily. But what she saw wasn't what she had expected and the wonderfully hazy feeling that shrouded her had immediately vanished.

"Torvald? What is it?" She asked, pulling her mask over her head, suddenly troubled by the look he was giving her. Instantly sensing what that look meant, she felt her heart sink. It was a look that she remembered plainly, and wished she had never had to see again. It was a look that he gave her back then before he had turned his horse around and rode away. "No," she refused to accept it. "You can't do this, you can't leave me again."

He didn't speak, but his eyes had said it all. They were telling her how sorry he was. How sorry and incredibly sad he was that he wouldn't– couldn't see her again. Those sapphire eyes were saying goodbye once more.

"No…" Gunnhild whimpered, feeling powerless as he backed away, she felt tears starting to well in her eyes as his arms slid off from hers. Then he turned around and pushed through the crowd, and disappeared.

She didn't know how long she stood there, struggling to understand what had just happened while people around her went on being merry. She didn't think she would've been able to move at all if Sigrid hadn't come over and set a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry." was all that Sigrid said, squeezing Gunnhild's shoulder slightly as a sign of comfort, undoubtedly having seen what happened. Her voice was full of pain and worry. "Come on, let's get out of here." Slowly, she led her friend to the door.

* * *

The next day, after having helped her mother and Sigrid with cooking and cleaning all three floors, Gunnhild had settled onto the stump of a tree and began weaving a basket. The sun was bright and the breeze was refreshing at the front of the villa, but Gunnhild was hardly enjoying it. Though her hands moved dexterously to bending and twisting the pieces of straw together, her thoughts were entirely elsewhere.

"You've been awfully quiet all day."

Gunnhild didn't look up, but she did sense that Sigrid was sitting down beside her and watching her intently. For the first time, Sigrid's voice didn't ring as confidently as it usually did. She was uneasy, and testing at the boundary of how much she was able to say without violating Gunnhild's comfort zone. Sigrid was probably afraid that the little blonde was going to break out into tears.

"Even Leeka is beginning to think something's wrong." She ventured tentatively once more as she was met with silence.

When Gunnhild still didn't respond, Sigrid sighed. Seeing such a usually pleasant and lively girl act like some soulless being was simply too hard to take.

"You should stop thinking about him."

Gunnhild's automated gestures stopped, and she looked at Sigrid for the first time, baffled by what her friend had just said. She was pretty sure she didn't hear right. "What?"

"Torvald." Sigrid said, visibly aware of how each word was probably stabbing at Gunnhild. "You should stop thinking about him, it's not going to get anywhere."

Gunnhild shot from her seat and stood facing Sigrid, who hasn't moved a hair. The blonde glared down at her but Sigrid was able to hold her gaze defiantly.

"What are you saying?" She demanded, obviously not liking her friend's advice.

The look that Sigrid gave her was a pained one. She really didn't want to hurt Gunnhild this way but she had to try and help her. She pleaded, "Please understand Gunnhild, Torvald's situation is very complicated." She paused, searching for the right words but was cut short.

"Complicated how?" Gunnhild demanded again, her anger not subsiding in the slightest. "Complicated because he keeps on finding me, making me fall in love with him and then leaving me?" She blurted, trying to blink back tears.

Sigrid started, looked up at Gunnhild with mild surprise in her eyes, "You… love him?"

But Gunnhild continued on her own, not really listening to her Sigrid anymore; she only heard the sound of her own rage. "Making me feel like I'll never see him again?" She began pacing furiously back and forth in front of Sigrid. "What gives him the right to think he can just toy with people feelings like that? Ugh!" She turned to Sigrid, who was entirely taken aback by the entire situation, "Why can't I _understand_ anything??"

Sigrid, eyes wide in mild shock looked back at her, completely at a lost for words. The fair, raven-haired woman's mouth was dropped slightly but no sound seemed to be coming out.

Gunnhild let out another frustrated sound and ran off, leaving Sigrid sitting on the tree stump with the half-woven basket. Both were still and silent.

* * *

Gunnhild had come back less temperamental a while later, and found that everyone was gone. The house echoed as she called out the names of her parents and her sister, to both the upper floor and to the basement. Then she recalled quickly Sigrid's mention at taking advantage of the day off to show the family around town.

A little disappointed that she was missing the tour, since she had wanted to find a leather-bound volume and a good quill with which she could record the events of the Tournament in, Gunnhild moved through the house, wondering if there was something that could be done to make up for her previous outburst. She had been acting unreasonably, and if mother or father found out how things turned out from Sigrid, they would surely scold her.

After searching for some time, Gunnhild found that they were running out of clean clothing, and took it upon herself to do everyone's laundry. The day was bright and sunny, even slightly breezy. It would take no time at all for them to dry.

She headed into everyone's rooms and grabbed their garments, the pile in her arms growing so that by the time she got to Sigrid's she could barely see where she was going. She walked towards the pile on the floor near the closet and swept them up with one arm while trying to keep everything balanced in her other arm.

However, as she did this, one of the folds had hooked upon the lower corner of Sigrid's closet. Before she could prevent what was happening, objects from within the closet had tumbled out, landing harshly first with clanging sounds, then with dull sounds. Sighing in slight annoyance, Gunnhild decided to finally relinquish her grip on the large bundle of clothes, setting it down in the hallway before heading back into the room to put back whatever objects she caused to fall from the closet. She only hoped that they weren't damaged.

As she walked back towards the closet it, the objects on the floor made her pause. She frowned slightly and she tilted her head as if to give herself a better view of the things that lay there. On the floor laid a large double edged sword and thick leather armor. Gunnhild's eyes widened as she came to realize to whom these things belonged to.

"Torvald…" She whispered, the name rolling off her tongue as easily as they had in all the times she had spent secretly saying it to make herself smile. Lately, she hadn't even so much as pronounced the first syllable once.

She bent over and picked up the leather armor, seizing it as another thought came to her: What were Torvald's things doing here, in a closet in Sigrid's room?

Then she inhaled sharply. Torvald must be living with Sigrid. It all made sense now. He must've invited Gunnhild to dance with him at the Masked Gathering upon Sigrid's request since Sigrid thought that she was doing her friend a favor and keeping her less bored. The amusement in Sigrid's tone and eyes that Gunnhild saw whenever they were talking about the fearless warrior had always made the young blonde wonder just what exactly they were being amused about. It also explained why Arsol was continuously stabled at Sigrid's house, because during this entire time, she had not seen Sigrid ride her once yet. Everything came together now.

A troubled expression came upon Gunnhild as she opened the other half of the closet to reveal more swords and armor, as well as a large shield. That was it. That must have been why Sigrid told Gunnhild to stop obsessing about Torvald. She was in love with him also and the new situation involving Gunnhild must've been extremely difficult and complicated for her.

Gunnhild lifted the heavy leather armor back onto its hooks and she reached for the large sword, and was breathtakingly surprised by its sheer weight. Struggling, she wrapped both hands around the hilt and lifted up the blade with its sharp point hanging downwards. Waddling slightly, she heaved the heavy weapon onto bottom edge of the closet.

Something else bothered her. The reason why Gunnhild had come to have feelings for Torvald, deeper feelings that extended far beyond simple gratitude for him being her savior, was the way he looked at her. From the moment their eyes first met at her old ransacked village, she knew that he saw something in her. Whether he had known Sigrid three winters ago was a mystery but Gunnhild felt it was Torvald's eyes that goaded her to return whatever feelings they conveyed. She would never have thought more of it if the way he looked at her didn't make her heart jump every time. Not to mention, he seemed to lose a bit of self-control himself. It wasn't nothing and they both knew it.

Gunnhild finally braced herself and lifted the sword back onto its hook, breathing a sigh of relief as it sat sturdily. She reached for the doors and shut them.

If Sigrid and Torvald were involved, and if Torvald was falling for her at the same time, they were all going to have a problem.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The Great Tournament had officially begun.

On that day, Sigrid had left early, once again claiming that she needed to meet the warriors with whom she associated so closely with. Gunnhild had assumed that she must've gone to spend some time with Torvald. The woman had been gone since dawn.

Though highly reluctant to attend anything relating to Torvald, Gunnhild let herself be dragged to the first day of the challenges simply because she couldn't find a plausible excuse as to why she would miss out. This had been the event that they had all been anticipating; it would certainly alarm her parents if she were to refuse to attend. Even her mother was there, and she usually avoided these types of spectacles.

In addition, Sigrid had done a lot for them; she wouldn't want to make her look bad in front of her parents in any way by explaining just why she didn't want to attend. Sigrid was still her friend and had come to be very dear to her despite everything. What happened the previous day must have been a huge misunderstanding they could surely overcome. Gunnhild had already part-way convinced her true inner self to be willing in accepting the fact that Sigrid and Torvald might be more than just mere acquaintances with common interests in battles and horses. Besides, Sigrid had gone out of her way so many times to show kindness to her and her family. She had become so endearing to her that Gunnhild simply could not allow herself to hate her.

Torvald, on the other hand, even though continuously fascinating her, had merely been the source of her strange emotional storms, for the lack of better ways to describe it. His icy stare was so intense at times, yet it always became frightening to look at for very long; it always made her turn away first. His movements conveyed certain confident gentleness but sometimes would randomly transition into a mixture of awkward coldness and self-consciousness. His slender figure seemed so regal, well-mannered and controlled – yet she had seen him be able to lash out violently and without warning at his opponents, with what seemed to be full of hate and fury that came out of nowhere.

How could someone be this contradictory within themselves?

And how could his heart be so unfaithful?

Gunnhild had opted to let those thoughts think for themselves, and tried to concentrate on the events at hand. The day wore on as they sat through the initial battles. All competitors were separated into in two large groups that were pitted against each other, not unlike makeshift small armies.

_(Song: __**Psycho** by __System of A Down)_

The official goal of the game was to disarm and harm if necessary, but never kill by intention. In the best case scenarios, the closest one got to being defeated was to be held at sword or axe point. Injuries sustained at the level of the limbs and the torsos were allowed. Hits to the head when a helmet had not been fitted were not allowed. Any dismemberment or decapitation resulted in immediate disqualification of the offender and an unfortunate disqualification of the offended. But of course, everyone participated at the risk of suffering any possible type of injury anyway.

The initial skirmishes were really opportunities for acts of showmanship; the warriors seemed to need to demonstrate their skills via complex ways of clashing weapons against other competitors and at the same time gracefully escaping blows. It wasn't merely a competition to fight, but one to perform – they had to try and win the crowds favor after all. However, it wasn't to say that the intentions to hack each other to pieces weren't present, nor were there any lack of major injuries or deaths despite the guidelines. The fighter did have the right to back down at any time as long as he voiced surrender aloud. When fights ended, the warriors were often rated by the crowd by the intensity of their cheering or booing proportional to how well they performed, and how spectacular their fights were.

Half the day had gone by rather quickly, and Birna had then chosen it opportune to excuse herself after witnessing enough violence. She needed to be home to prepare food, after all.

Leif and Leeka were quickly losing their voices trying to out-shout the rest of the roaring crowd. Gunnhild had sat on the edge of her seat on occasions, but most of her time was spent fuming whenever she saw Torvald's fluid form almost dancing through his opponents and taking them down.

The number of competitors remaining was very rapidly shrinking as those who were more amateurs were slowly filtered out while only those who were truly skilled and strong enough remained. Not surprisingly, Torvald the Thunder was amongst them. It had been his first time entering the Tournament, barely reaching the right age and build. But by reputation, outside of the Tournament, Torvald's fighting had been unrivaled. As a matter of fact – Gunnhild had found out from other people's conversations throughout the day – Torvald, along with warriors like the Great Olvir, Kalan the Courageous, Halfreor the Horror (they who all also happened to be Sigrid's very friendly acquaintances), belonged to a group. This group consisted also of other highly reputed warriors such as Friomund the Mighty, and Alfvin of Ashlaia. Along with another half a dozen men, whose names were not pronounced quite as often and had escaped Gunnhild, these warriors came together with a common cause: to rid the Northern villages of the Raiders. Suddenly, some of the names mentioned had become oddly familiar to her.

As the Tournament progressed along further, all the men from Torvald's group still held their own and they were still all amongst the highest ranking. The participants remaining had begun forming quartets now to fight. It was only by chance so far that none of the warriors from Torvald's group had to fight against each other, though they occasionally did get teamed up together to fight side by side.

Eventually, both audience and fighters grew weary and so the first day of the Tournament drew to its close. The fighters were given three days of repose to recuperate and heal, then they would be back to fight again.

* * *

As they neared Sigrid's villa, Gunnhild's father was chatting animatedly with her sister and both were so invigorated by the day's excitement that neither noticed Gunnhild listlessly trailing behind. At first she had tired herself out by being upset and angry, and later she had been completely drained simply just from trying to forget it all and focusing on just following the fights. The day had been long and she desired nothing more than to collapse onto her bed, perhaps even cry for a bit. The conversation with Sigrid might have to wait until the morrow, and it wasn't like she was home yet.

Gunnhild was about to follow Leif and Leeka into the house when she heard trotting noises, horse sounds from a distance. Glancing back, she saw the form of Torvald, entirely cast in shadow because the setting sun behind him. Arsol was beside him, held by the reigns and pacing peacefully along with her owner.

At that instant, something strange possessed Gunnhild and caused her to hide by the storage house, near a stack of hay as she watched Torvald approaching to stable the horse. Now that he was close, she could see that he was still wearing his full battle gear, but everything was covered in dirt and blood. His beautiful long raven hair and signature braid were matted with mud and sweat, and no doubt blood as well but the color of his hair made it hard to tell. Gunnhild found herself hoping that none of the blood on him was his.

Torvald gave the horse a quick brush down and fed it, then affectionately stroked the top of the horse's muzzle, whispering words too low for Gunnhild to hear. At that moment, she felt very drawn to him, once again amazed at how someone so aggressive in fights can be so tender and caring when he thought he was alone.

When the mare was sufficiently tended to, he circled around the stable and headed towards the back of the villa. Gunnhild watched as he went, and on a whim, took off from her hiding spot and followed after him.

They were walking in the garden at the back of the villa; Torvald stepping slowly, as if admiring the scenery while the Gunnhild trailed behind with as much stealth as she could muster. The young blonde had been there on a few occasions during the day, but she had never seen it in the fast-fading rays of the setting sun. She never really noticed the variety of colors, or the beauty of the garden before. Everything looked like they were glowing and all was ever so peaceful as if basked in a spell, emanating warmth for the last moments of the day, before settling into the night.

Gunnhild descended the stone steps carefully and persued Torvald closely through the leaves and tall grass that seem to come alive under the gentle breeze, beckoning and caressing her skin when she passed. It was amazing to be able to grow such a beautiful garden in the North, Gunnhild realized. Sigrid must've given all these plants a great deal of love and attention for them to prosper this way.

The raven-haired warrior preceding her seemed to been making way toward the house a lot quicker now all of a sudden, almost as if he was trying to reach the back door as quickly as possible. Gunnhild noted that even in his haste, his boots never hit the stone paveway hard enough to make a single sound. Gunnhild had to start carrying the lower part of her dress in order to not trip over and catch up with him.

The more she neared, the quicker she realized that she wasn't going to catch him. Instinct seized her vocal chords and made her call out.

"Wait!" Gunnhild blurted loudly, her hands only a second too late to cover her mouth. She was desperate to get him to stop before he got too close to the house lest other people, especially Sigrid, heard. Her words had frozen him on the spot.

"I have to speak to you, Torvald," Gunnhild began, catching her breath. Now that she had finally gotten the opportunity, she had forgotten how to say what was on her mind. "You have to come clean." She decided to go with the blunt approach, feeling something rise in her throat.

Everything thing inside Gunnhild was screaming for Torvald to just do as she asked, to make things easier for everyone. Yet, there was a constant nagging shred of hope deep within her, wanting him to oppose her wish. His shoulders seem to sag wearily and he turned his head lightly, which reminded her of the time when she was sitting behind him on horseback. It was really just not enough for her see what was playing across his face, and it added to the frustration.

Gunnhild waited, but the silence had only encouraged him to take a tentative step forward. He was doing it again! He was walking away again without explaining himself and it began to infuriate her. She wasn't going to let him get away with it, not that easily, and not this time.

"You can't keep on doing this! It's not fair to me or to Sigrid!" Gunnhild had never remembered sounding this angry. Didn't he understand that he was going to break someone's heart in the end? Although Gunnhild secretly wished that he'd choose her, she knew that it was the right thing to do for him to choose Sigrid. She didn't want to lose such a valuable friend and she wasn't about to let him hurt her, even if it was at her own expense.

She took a deep breath to calm herself. Maybe if she explained herself, it might help both of them.

"Everytime you look at me, I feel like I see… something there." Gunnhild took a few steps towards him, his back remained impassive to what she said. "But Sigrid's my friend, and she probably loves you very much and I can't let you hurt her like this." She was beginning to feel desperate at his lack of response. It was all just as well that he didn't turn around, Gunnhild might've gotten really upset if she saw those eyes again. "I need you to say that you love her, and you don't love me, because-" Her voice cracked; she was barely able to get the last few words out.

"I can't."

Something in Torvald's voice confused Gunnhild. It wasn't the tone, but rather the pitch. Gunnhild had never heard Torvald speak before, but the voice she heard wasn't the one she had been expecting to hear. It didn't come close to the voice she imagined hearing from him.

Slowly, Torvald turned around, removing his helmet for the first time in her presence.

What Gunnhild saw made her eyes widen in shock.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"W-what?" Gunnhild finally managed, after a few seconds, to make as if she didn't hear correctly, although she was really trying to reassure herself that she hadn't been shocked into muteness. The lack of change in her wide-eyed, stunned expression must've been a dead giveaway of her confusion.

She recognized those eyes, those same furrowed brows of sadness… and yet Gunnhild felt like she had just been bludgeoned on the side of the head. Maybe she had gotten hit by a loose axe head and didn't remember… But even in this state, she felt like she was drowning in the blueness before her. Also, she couldn't look away from those eyes because she the rest of the face didn't really make sense to her, to the mental picture she had envisioned so many times before.

The person standing before her wasn't Torvald, but Sigrid. It was Sigrid who was armored in thick leather and metal plating. Sigrid carrying a sword at the belt and the helmet that was removed was sitting in Sigrid's hands. The raven black hair that Gunnhild was so used to seeing up in a bun now draped loosely around the taller woman's shoulders, waving delicately in the evening breeze. Most of all, it was Sigrid's face that was covered in smudges of dirt here and there and the rest of her was covered by varying shades of blood. And even then, the dark haired warrior still managed to hold a serene demeanor, looking as proud and mighty as any warrior would.

Still uncertain, Gunnhild approached without a word and stared up at her with wide, scrutinizing green eyes. The other woman's gaze tracked her approach and… were her eyes filling with tears? Gunnhild felt her own vision contagiously starting to wet and blur.

The smaller blonde lifted a hesitant hand, touching the warrior's face as if to check whether it was all real. Sigrid remained unmoving, her gaze was still on Gunnhild, searching, waiting.

Sigrid gasped slightly when Gunnhild slid her hand down her face, along her jaw line in an exploratory manner. The young blonde remembered those jaw lines, even though she has never touched them before. They were so beautifully cut, along with those high cheekbones; one of the most defining features she always noticed about Sigrid because her hair was always pulled back and show them off. They seemed to accentuate her smile whenever she grinned, but Gunnhild still recognized them even if Sigrid wasn't smiling now.

Her thumb stole across Sigrid's mud-covered cheek and it left a trail revealing Sigrid's white skin under the dirt. She did indeed recognize those features – though hidden by Sigrid's hair and mud, they were still there.

"I can't..." the warrior whispered, Gunnhild was standing so close. For a moment, they both seemed to have forgotten why she was saying it. The expression in her eyes softened, and saddened. "…tell you that I don't love you." She finished defeatedly.

Gunnhild's gaze eyes met hers, and the smaller woman abruptly let her hand drop away, as if she had been caressing fire instead of her face. A second wave of shock had just hit her. Sigrid reached for that very hand and held it in both of hers, wanting to soothe it.

"I know I've deceived you. And I know that you won't forgive me for that." She squeezed lightly on Gunnhild's hand. "But please believe me when I say I didn't want any of it to happen this way."

Gunnhild found herself trying again to piece the armor wearing body to the face that she knew so well. It was slowly making sense, in a strange kind of way she hadn't expected.

"The armors and weapons in your closet, they're yours." Gunnhild asserted, but already knew the answer.

Sigrid tensed at first, not knowing that Gunnhild had gone through her closet, but only nodded.

"Arsol is your horse."

Nod.

"And it was you who danced with me at the Gathering…"

Another defeated nod.

The emerald eyes snapped back to meet Sigrid's.

"It was you who saved me. And you in all those fights." This time, her gaze indicated that she needed more than just a nod. The implications were beginning to grow more and more, and all the connections she just made became slightly overwhelming.

"…Yes." Sigrid finally said.

Gunnhild looked to the fountain, absent-mindedly watching the water trickling from the top and cascading down, rim upon rim until it drained into an opening at the bottom, only to start the same cycle again. She finally allowed some sort of comprehension to slip through and nodded absent-mindedly. She bit her lip and considered her next question.

"Why?"

"Because you're in love with Torvald." She paused, letting go of Gunnhild's hand. "Ever since I first set eyes on you in your village," She didn't really know how to continue but tried anyway, "I knew who you really love is this side of me, the dark side of me." She touched the helmet for emphasis. "The only time I see you look at me that way is when I am Torvald."

She stopped to see if Gunnhild had anything to say, but the other woman didn't, "I tried to befriend you as Sigrid, and I succeeded." She continued, "As Torvald, even if I had what I wanted from you, all I could do was hide from you, because I was so afraid that you'd find out. And knowing that I can be so much closer to you more often at the expense of not having…" She was at a lost for words and glanced away, wishing they would come to her from somewhere in the garden.

"I guess I didn't know what I was doing and I messed things up pretty bad." She admitted. "But now, I guess I can't have you whether I am Torvald or Sigrid." Her voice cracked and a single tear made it way down from one eye, stopping and lingering at her chin.

Gunnhild surely hated her now, but she felt a small relief, no longer needing to carry this great burden within her. Now, all she had to endure was the pain, which she had dealt with before and survived.

"I should probably go." Sigrid turned, unable to bring herself to look at Gunnhild any longer. It was definitely going to be awkward since they still had to live in the same house and probably needed to pretend nothing had ever happened in the presence of Gunnhild's family.

She began walking away when unexpectedly, she felt Gunnhild's hand on her arm. She looked at the hand momentarily, trying to figure out what it meant.

_(Song: Only the beginning of __**Through Glass** by __Stone Sour)_

Before she knew it, Gunnhild had reached up to her face with the other hand and a gentle pull was all it took to guide her lips down to hers. They shared a lingering kiss before Gunnhild pulled away, leaving them both breathless. An uncertain smile teased at the edge of the taller woman's lips, her eyes still expressed confusion.

"I love you, both as Torvald and as Sigrid." Gunnhild said softly, her voice was a lot more reassuring than Sigrid had imagined it would be. "And now, I know that you have been my savior and friend all along."

* * *

Leeka had been running back and forth from the kitchen to the dinning room, setting up plates and utensils. She wondered where Gunnhild was because if her older sister was here, she wouldn't have been so frantically racing about trying to prepare the table all by herself while their mother cooked. If Gunnhild was here, she'd probably be excused from doing any of these tasks and would've amused herself, pretending to be Kalan the Courageous or Torvald the Thunder with the new wooden sword that Leif had just made her.

She raced by the window that faced the backyard, and spared a casual glance out. What she saw had altogether stopped her dead in her tracks. Her jaw dropped dramatically as she stared through the apple trees at the two figure standing before the water fountain. The heated dish she held in her hands was almost immediately forgotten.

Though she couldn't make details out very clearly, she recognized Gunnhild's long strawberry-red hair as well as the clothes she had been wearing during the day… and who was that other person? Long black hair down the back, body suited in full armor and helmet in one hand… that helmet! Leeka recognized it. It was Torvald! As Leeka inspected a bit more closely, which involved poking her head out through the window as much as she could, her eyes went wide at the sight of them joining lips. They were kissing! Torvald and Gunnhild! Kissing in their back garden!

"LEEKA!"

Startled, Leeka jumped back from her spot, spilling a bit of red sauce onto the wooden floor. "What on earth are you doing? Hurry up!" Birna had prepared another plate and needed Leeka to bring it to the dinning room.

"Coming, Mother!" the small brunette called out before glancing at the scene again, an anticipatory smile spreading across her face. She sped off towards the dining room to set down the dish. She sure had something interesting to tell Mother once she got back to the kitchen.

* * *

Gunnhild and Sigrid entered the house hand in hand through one of the side doors. The heavy thing slammed shut with a loud thud.

"Gunnhild? Is that you?" The call came from the dinning area at the back of the house.

"Yes, Mother!" Gunnhild called back. She looked at Sigrid, and the two young women couldn't help themselves from exchanging giggles simply because they were so giddy over the unexpected turn of things.

"Is there someone with you?"

Sigrid tried to put on a serious voice and called out, "It's me, Birna!"

"Well, come to dinner girls! It's ready!"

Sigrid headed for the stairs while urging Gunnhild towards the dining area. "You go ahead," She gestured to herself, "I'll just go get cleaned up and change, I'll be right there."

Gunnhild nodded and made her way to the dinning table. She took her seat next to Leeka. Their parents were sitting opposite them on the other side of the table and the head of the table had been left for Sigrid. She explained to her parents that Sigrid had been walking about in mud and only Thor knew what all day, and hanging around with incredibly rancid smelling men so she had desperately needed to clean up before joining them for dinner.

"That Sigrid is a bit of a wild child isn't she?"

"She's hardly a child anymore, Leif. Look at her now, all grown up and running a house by herself." Birna said to her husband. "Ever since-" She stopped before she went on, her eyes went to their daughters, but mostly Gunnhild.

"What, Mother? Ever since what?" Gunnhild pressed, had this been what her father had been trying to tell her earlier on? Now everything about Sigrid was important to her. She looked back and forth between her adoptive parents with questioning eyes. Leif and Birna exchanged glances, and Leif nodded.

"We didn't want to mention this to either of you, especially you, Gunnhild because we know it's a sensitive subject." Birna began explaining. "But there is a reason why Sigrid is living all alone at such a young age."

"You have to promise to never mention this in her presence. We don't want to upset her." Leif added.

"Gunnhild," Birna said, drawing her daughter's attention from her father, "Sigrid's parents were very good friends of ours, and it's such a shame… we…" The mother let out a sigh, feeling a loss for words at the thought of what she wanted to relay. Her husband put a comforting arm around her. Gunnhild was at the edge of her seat.

"Sigrid's parents were killed by the Raiders. Just like yours."

Gunnhild leaned back against her chair, making more connections in her head than her parents could've possibly imagined. Before she had a chance to voice any of them, Sigrid appeared at the dinning room and took her seat. Leif cleared his throat and let go of Birna who quickly wiped her eyes. Both Gunnhild and Leeka sat just a bit straighter and more nervously in their chairs.

"So, what's for dinner?" She asked, eagerly rubbing her hand together as she surveyed the table filled with good food, unaware of the conversation that had taken place just prior. She looked famished, which was normal since she had been fighting men twice her size all day. Everyone began passing plates about and serving themselves. They ate in an awkward silence though Sigrid did not notice; she devoured her meal like a wolf that has been starving for days. Wine and water were poured into goblets. Leif sliced off giant pieces of wild boar while Birna broke chunks of bread off for everyone.

Leeka, squirming in her seat, looked back and forth between everyone and finally tried to break the tension, "I saw Gunnhild kissing someone today!"

Gunnhild's hand froze midway reaching for her goblet as she shot a panicked yet still subtle glance towards Sigrid. Luckily, it went unnoticed by the rest of her family. Sigrid's hand halted for a little as well while she was cutting her slice of boar meat but then resumed. "Did you really?" She asked, not looking up from her plate, and with a tone that seemed to not have reached Leeka's expectations in terms of a reaction.

"Yes, in the courtyard! Guess who it was!"

Gunnhild felt her face getting very hot and knew she must've looked incredibly flushed. "Mother, Father, did you know about this as well?" She inquired semi-frantically, not knowing what answer she would prefer to hear.

"Yes, Leeka told us." Birna smiled encouragingly, which somewhat calmed Gunnhild a bit, though she wasn't sure whether she should be confused. "But since we didn't see it for ourselves, we'd rather you tell us."

Gunnhild felt a hand on her knee under the large wooden table giving her a reassuring squeeze. The situation was under control. She glanced at Sigrid, but the woman's face showed no sign that revealed what was going on under the table.

"Hmm, I can't guess Leeka, but he must've been a lucky man!" Sigrid said while giving Gunnhild a discrete wink.

"Well, aren't you going to tell us, Gunnhild?"

"I- uh…"

"It was Torvald!" Leeka burst out before Gunnhild could answer, unable to contain herself for any longer.

Birna rolled her eyes at their younger daughter and looked to Gunnhild for confirmation. The latter nodded shyly, starting again to turn a shade of red that matched her mom's cooking sauce. She was relieved, but definitely not any less embarrassed.

"Well, there's no need to be shy, daughter, you are about the right age by now to be courting." Leif said, smiling proudly. "We are never too conservative about these kinds of things. I hear Torvald is a good man, is he not, Sigrid?"

"One of the best." Sigrid took a sip of wine from her goblet, sitting back, and clearly relishing in the situation as she smiled in an almost evil way at Gunnhild. Gunnhild pouted though she couldn't suppress a rising grin.

"So when are you seeing him again? It is going to be before the next tournament day?" Leif obviously considered this courtship serious.

"Um…"

"And you have to make him teach me how to fight with swords!" Leeka squealed.

"Sure, Leeka." Gunnhild patted her sister as she would a wild half-bred dog, attempting to calm her. She looked back at her parents; they were passing plates about again, but were definitely still waiting for a response. Her green eyes shifted pleadingly to Sigrid, whose translucent blues gleamed with way too much enjoyment at seeing her being put on the spot. Gunnhild's eyes narrowed at her in that familiar way they did when Sigrid would tease her about one thing or another, and it was followed by an indignant yet adorable cringe of the nose. Sigrid caught it with a raised eyebrow and she leaned back forward, propping her arm on the table and grabbing a piece of bread.

"Torvald's actually going to be out of town until the next tournament day." Sigrid said casually, pulling off a piece of bread and plopping it into her mouth.

"But he left his horse here?" Leif asked, a bit surprised.

"He didn't want to tire out Arsol from the travel before the next fight," Sigrid replied without missing a beat, "so he borrowed a horse from Kalan."

"Speaking of which, how is Kalan?" Birna piped in, with a gossipy tone that easily aroused suspicion.

"He is well." Impassive. Sigrid didn't give in to Birna's meddling tone.

"Are you going to be seeing him again before the next tournament day?"

"Well, I see Kalan and Olvir enough usually, I figure I ought to keep you guys entertained during-"

"Nonsense!" Birna waved away the notion dramatically. "We can take care of ourselves! It's not the first time we're in this village."

Sigrid gave a reproachful side-glance to Gunnhild, who was now smirking smugly back at her turn of being put on the spot. It seemed that the parents were just a tad match-making-happy. Sigrid looked back at Birna, and for the first time, Gunnhild thought she saw a hint of anxiety in warrior's eyes, not unlike that of a trapped animal's. She tried to refrain from laughing.

"You're only a bit older than Gunnhild, you know. You should be looking for a mate too. The house can't be run by just you forever."

Leif agreed knowingly with his wife and nodded. "We can stay here and take care of the house if you need to leave more often. It won't be a problem."

"But I-"

"Now, now. It will be our pleasure."

"It's just that-"

"Why don't you two go somewhere tomorrow and take Arsol? It'll be a nice walk for the mare, and Gunnhild could get to know Torvald's friends better."

Sigrid finally slumped in defeat and nodded. Gunnhild snickered inwardly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Warning: **Mature content. (Also, my first time with this kind of scene, so I apologize if it's not too good. It's a risky move, but I felt that it was necessary for the story. I would love it if you guys could give me some feedback on what to improve).

* * *

**Chapter 7**

The next day was sunny. Gunnhild felt as if she had barely slept enough before her parents near literally dragged her out of bed, eager to start her day for her. She sat drowsily at the dinning table, still rubbing her eyes and ate porridge without being conscious of it.

"Where's Sigrid?" She yawned as she chewed, making for a less than graceful sight.

"She had been up since dawn, dear. She said she'd go ride with Arsol around a bit first before coming back to get you." Birna took the wooden bowl that Gunnhild all of a sudden found empty and gave her a smile, heading back into the kitchen.

Moments later, the young blonde was at the front of the villa, squinting against the blazing sun and shielding her eyes with a hand. She heard hoof beats from afar and watched the horizon carefully as she saw a mounted figure appear from the hills that lay eastward of the town.

_(Song: __**You Make Me Smile** by __Blue October)_

She smiled as it approached and halted beside her, beholding a most beautiful sight sitting atop of the golden steed. Sigrid had never seemed happier and her delight seemed incredibly infectious. Without a word, the dark-haired woman reached down and Gunnhild took her arm, ending up behind her on the saddle in a mere instant.

"Ready for a day of getting to know Torvald?"

"Mm-hmm." Gunnhild replied, slipping her arms comfortably around Sigrid's waist after she had made sure they were without an audience

"I think you should start by getting to know his best friend better."

"And who is that?" The young blonde cocked her head in curiosity.

"Me, of course." The raven-haired woman replied, turning back to give her a grin. "Hyah!" She kicked and they galloped off.

* * *

"Why, Sigrid, I didn't know you had it in you."

Lying on the grass, Sigrid patted her stomach contently, having just let out a loud belch, of which she was extremely proud of. They had feasted on the cheese she had packed earlier, after spending a long morning of riding just outside of town. Sigrid had shown Gunnhild all the sights that she had enjoyed while riding alone, and somehow Gunnhild had managed to point out quite poetically things she had never noticed before. It wasn't long before they were tired out and had stopped at a clearing in a field of wild grass.

Finishing the last of the cheese, Gunnhild laid back on the grass comfortably beside Sigrid. Both their contrasting hairs fanned out on the green like a carefully laid tapestry. Sigrid had her hands behind her head, feeling content and at peace. They stared up at the sky, enjoying the sun and the sounds of nature.

"Sigrid," Gunnhild said after a while, "Can I ask you something?" She propped herself up on her side and looked over at her.

"Go ahead." Sigrid closed her eyes lazily as a warm breeze swept through the clearing.

"It's about your parents…"

"My parents were murdered eight winters ago." Sigrid replied matter-of-factly. She wasn't surprised that Gunnhild had found out, but her bluntness had caught the blonde off guard.

"I just want you to know that I'm very sorry." Gunnhild watched Sigrid intently but Sigrid didn't seem upset. Either she had gotten over it over the years or, more likely, she was doing a very good job at hiding it. "Was it the Raiders?"

Silence.

Gunnhild thought that Sigrid had fallen asleep and hadn't heard her question. Or maybe she just didn't want to answer.

"Yes, it was the Raiders."

"Is it part of why you became Torvald?"

The blue eyes finally reappeared again, and Sigrid propped herself on her elbow, mimicking Gunnhild. For a brief moment, Gunnhild thought she has seen that very vulnerable part of her soul again.

"It's part of it, yes." Sigrid admitted.

Gunnhild nodded, and looked down, playing with a blade of grass thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save your parents." Sigrid said, rather softly. It had been something she had been dying to say to her, she realized.

Gunnhild nodded again, feeling a general sadness grow within her. Like Sigrid, she was trying to hide her pain, but probably wasn't as successful. She plucked a white dandelion from the ground and held it up to the warrior's face.

"Make a wish."

Sigrid smirked and blew on the flower. The white fluffs carrying the seeds detached easily from the rest of the plant and they all drifted away in a small cloud of puffs. Then they got caught in the wind and dispersed into oblivion.

"What did you wish for?"

Sigrid's eyes met Gunnhild's and she smiled warmly. "I was wishing for it to be possible to love you even more than I do now." She moved towards the blonde and gingerly brushed away a strand of blonde hair.

"And?" Gunnhild's eyes were already traveling down to Sigrid's lips, her own lips half-parted in anticipation.

Sigrid simply leaned in to give her the answer.

* * *

The sun was setting by the time they rode home, but it was hard to tell for the sky had long been darkened by the rainstorm that had appeared out of nowhere. After Arsol was safely stabled, amply dried, brushed and fed, the two girls headed indoors. Both were completely soaked.

"Mother?" Gunnhild called out, wiping water off her face. Sigrid and she had devised an entire list of things that they would recite about their day to her parents since they couldn't exactly tell them what they were really doing. "Father?" The young blonde tried again since she was met with silence the first time around.

"They're gone." Sigrid said, as Gunnhild found her reading off a letter set on the dinning room table. "They said they had gone to visit some other relatives and would only be back in time to attend the next Tournament day."

The two girls stood and dripped on the kitchen floor as they considered the possible reasons for this abrupt departure.

"Probably to give us more alone time with the men." Gunnhild rolled her eyes.

Sigrid's eyes twinkled with mischief. "But it gives us alone time..." She teased suggestively.

Something in the tone of her voice gave Gunnhild pause. Then her gaze floated up to Sigrid's with a certain desire for what had been insinuated. Though only kidding at first, Sigrid's grin faded and she became serious upon seeing the significance held in the emerald gaze before her.

With a smile that could've melted the dark warrior's heart, Gunnhild gave her a long kiss before pulling away and nodded at her gently.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Gunnhild replied, taking Sigrid's hand.

_(Song: __**Through Glass** by __Stone Sour)_

The taller woman took the lead as they headed up the stairs.

They stepped into Sigrid's bedroom and time seemed to have stopped as they engaged in a wave of passionate kisses. Never had Sigrid found Gunnhild's lips softer, fuller. It wasn't long before she was surprised at finding her lover's tongue exploring her mouth, devouring her with a similar avidity. Gladly, she returned the favor in kind.

The heated exchange brought them to trade pleasured moans as they strained to catch their breaths between the kisses. Gunnhild urged Sigrid towards the bed and gave her a gentle push to sit her down while Sigrid's lips began traveling down her partner's neck, caressing the collarbone, and eventually careening across her the top of her breasts.

She was barely aware of her own hands eagerly peeling off Gunnhild's drenched clothes, and she continued tasting every inch of her, gratified by the saltiness of the skin and moans coming from her partner. Busy palms pressed against Gunnhild's lower back, and drew her even closer. Gunnhild's moans became louder, her hands slid through Sigrid's dark hair before grabbing hold of the thick locks.

As the rest of Gunnhild's dress fell to the floor, Sigrid was pushed completely onto the bed and found the blonde towering over her. Their lips hardly had the chance to part as Gunnhild helped Sigrid out of her damp clothes in turn. As soon as the dress left her, Sigrid was immediately aware of the warmth between their bodies and between her thighs, as well as the wetness. It was amazing the way their bodies reacted so naturally to one another. Not a single word needed to be spoken.

By now, Gunnhild's lips traveled down Sigrid's body. Though they lingered for a long pleasurable while at her breasts, they didn't stop and continued downwards towards her loins.

The darker woman gasped and her breath quickened as she felt a strong muscle rub against her. Barely able to contain her own groaning, she looked down to see Gunnhild between her thighs, the blonde's nails dug into her hips. The stroking was deliberate and slow, but it did nothing to quell Sigrid's arousal. Unknowingly, she began pulling Gunnhild's head in further as she began to feel the climax.

Even as the stroking intensified, Sigrid inhaled sharply and her back uncontrollably arched. Her mouth was open but she was barely able to utter a sound at the sudden overwhelming sensation coursing through her.

Or perhaps she had let out multiple sounds – it hadn't been perfectly clear to her.

Slowly, as the feeling began washing over, she lowered to meet the mattress again and Gunnhild came back up to dab her lips with more kisses. It was less aggressive and more intimate, but no less eager than before.

Finally opening her eyes, Sigrid saw the same amount of affection she held for Gunnhild reflected back to her. A sudden wave of desire seized her again, and she rolled Gunnhild onto the bed, under her. She pressed against Gunnhild and closed her mouth around the blonde's lips with a newfound ferocity, sliding her tongue into her partner's mouth. Her hand snaked its way down Gunnhild's body, reaching between the thighs; Gunnhild was still wet… but something made her hesitate.

"Sigrid…" Gunnhild let out a rasped plead. She implored with more moans as Sigrid suckled on one of her breasts. The small blonde grabbed the paused hand herself, and directed it into the deeper parts of her that craved so much attention. Sigrid let her fingers gently slide back and forth between the folds, exciting her lover but not satisfying her fully. It was an odd feeling, because at that very moment, Sigrid was also so terrified of harming her. Still, her body pressed against Gunnhild's and began moving to the same rhythm as her hand.

Sigrid's eyes came up to meet her lover's. "I love you." She whispered, her free hand brushed back Gunnhild's flaxen wet hair.

"I… love-" Gunnhild gasped before she could finish, feeling Sigrid fingers fully enter her, her hands shot out and clamped onto the taller woman, nails digging into her lover's back. Her hips began rocking to the rhythm of Sigrid's hand and their two forms writhed in synchrony. Feeling that Gunnhild was nearing climax, Sigrid's fingers began moving faster. Finally, Gunnhild let out a cry of ecstasy as her body began to shudder.

After a short time of blinding bliss, Gunnhild leveled off little by little, as Sigrid's fingers slowed and eventually pulled out. Their breathing gradually became normal again.

Exhausted, Sigrid let out a sigh and rolled over onto her back while Gunnhild had just enough energy to scooch over and allow her more space on the bed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_(Song: __**Live again**__ by Sevendust)_

The next Tournament day had come and Gunnhild's parents as well as Leeka have returned just in time to attend it as promised. The crowd that gathered was just as immense as it had been the prior times, although the remaining competitors were only the more skillful ones.

As always, Sigrid had left early in the morning before anyone was up; the tall warrior had snuck into her room fully clad in armor and had stolen a quick kiss goodbye before departing.

As the sun rose, Leif, Birna, as well as Gunnhild and Leeka rose, dressed and had breakfast. It wasn't too long before they were seated at the Arena along with a few other hundreds of bustling people. Once again, Birna had managed to excuse herself from all the goriness as she left early, while shaking her head mumbling to herself about why her husband and both her daughters enjoyed the violence so much.

Throughout the day, Gunnhild had watched with much more interest and attention as the fights became more elaborate and more intense. She bellowed out victoriously along with the rest of the crowd when someone she rooted for – mainly people from Torvald's gang – won and booed along with other disgruntled spectators when a certain competitor would fight dirty or deliver a dirty hit.

Near the end of the day, the combatants were once again reduced to half the number and only about thirty warriors were left standing. Not surprisingly, Torvald was one of them; amongst the rest of his clan, only a few had dropped out of the competition but mostly due to disqualification rather than defeat.

When the final battles pulled to a close for another two days, Gunnhild headed home with her father and her sister merrily. The three traveled on the dirt road, still discussing the thrilling parts they recalled from the battle.

"That Torvald is quite the warrior, isn't he?" Leif said proudly, while both Gunnhild and Leeka eagerly nodded in agreement.

"So, when do we get to meet him in person?" Leif asked Gunnhild.

"Oh, I don't know, father," Gunnhild fidgeted, "He is very busy with the Tournament, and hardly has time for me…" She lied, knowing full well that Sigrid was there with them day and night.

"Well, I guess it is important that he keeps his reputation by gaining the champion title," Leif thought out loud, "Perhaps when the Tournament is over then."

"Yes, of course. I'm sure he will have time between now and saving all the villagers from Raiders then." Gunnhild replied, somewhat relieved at having been given more time to avoid the inevitable. How was she going to present Torvald? It was of course feasible for Sigrid to pass off as a convincing warrior since she has done it for so long but usually only at a distance and wearing armor. Her elegant combat styles and techniques were usually enough to mesmerize any onlooker so that no one would think twice about how the slender form could belong to a woman's body. But what happened if she were to stand still in open space? How awkward would it seem? Even if she did manage to face them up close, Sigrid would have to refrain from talking, which would be just as much of an impossibility.

What would Leif and Birna think if they found out that Torvald was Sigrid all along? What would they think of her and of Sigrid? Gunnhild's face paled. She could only imagine them being ten times more confused than she had been, and possibly abhorred by both young women on so many different levels. Leeka would probably think of her as a monster and that would destroy her.

There had to be some way out of it. How on earth was it possible for them to love Sigrid so much and Torvald almost equally as much but they would be horrified at the notion of the two being the same person? Gunnhild didn't understand how or why exactly, but she definitely knew they would.

The three had gotten in at a still reasonable time; Leif announced he'd be cleaning the stables and the storehouse before supper. Meanwhile, Leeka had asked for permission to play outside, and was allowed to only until Birna would be needing help in the kitchen. Inside, Gunnhild was about to head to the kitchen to offer help when she passed by the door on the side of the house and caught Sigrid sneaking in. Sigrid initially tensed at the sight of someone waiting, but as her eyes adjusted to the dark and recognized the blonde, she relaxed. Her gaze still seemed to hold some lingering savagery from the competition, but softened considerably at the sight of Gunnhild.

"Hey." She smiled tiredly. "I'm just going to go upstairs to wash up and I'll be right down."

"I'll help," Gunnhild said, glancing conspicuously towards the kitchen before following Sigrid upstairs.

* * *

Sigrid leaned back and sighed, relaxing her tense muscles and closing her eyes. The water was so warm that steam wafted constantly from the surface and nearly filled the entire bathroom.

Gunnhild had been sitting on a bench beside the wooden tub, and scrubbing Sigrid's back. As the warrior propped against the rim, Gunnhild continued with her shoulders. She stopped momentarily and gave one of the glistening shoulders a soft and completely aimless kiss – which brought a smile to Sigrid's face – before continuing to clean the other shoulder.

"So, what did you think about the fight today?" Sigrid inquired, eyes still closed and enjoying her lover's gentle touch.

"Hmm, I have to say that you were the prettiest one there." Gunnhild said, now giving up the sponge and began massaging Sigrid's tight muscles.

Sigrid groaned at the initial pain from her tensed muscles reacting to being pressed. "I was the _only_ pretty one there."

"I know," Gunnhild chuckled. "I have to admit, you were very spectacular to watch. I'm so proud that you ended up in the last thirty."

"Hey, I wasn't named the Thunder for nothing, and I need to uphold my reputation to make my enemies fear me." Sigrid shifted to let other areas of her back be kneaded, some areas of her body revealed bruises at places her armor failed to protect, but there was no sign of any cuts. It was almost like she was a God of War, winning fights against the most fierce of opponents and leaving practically unscathed.

"So how long has Torvald existed? I can't imagine you pretending to be a little boy as you grew up too."

Sigrid smirked. "Torvald came to town five summers ago." She started as if she made to tell a story. "It was three summers after the invasion by the Raiders."

Gunnhild nodded in all seriousness, counting back. "I remember my parents tell me about it as a child… my real parents I mean. The Raiders from the Southern villages had just begun assailing the Northern villages, and the first town they hit was a big one." She stopped kneading momentarily as she made the connection. "It was this one." She looked at the back of Sigrid's head, and the woman confirmed with a nod. "At the time, all the best warriors of the village were off fighting a battle in the East," Gunnhild began.

"And so we were all left defenseless." Sigrid took over the story. "They killed everything mercilessly. Men, women, children were beheaded and gutted. They burned our crops, and had our animals slain. They took women and children by force, forcing husbands and parents to watch." Despite herself, Sigrid shuddered in the warm water. "It was as if their only goal was destruction, and nothing else."

The hands on Sigrid's shoulders stopped. "Were you…?"

"No. I was lucky I guess." She glanced at Gunnhild who had now circled the tub to face her, but her eyes were glazed over by the terrible memories. "My father had thrown me into the storehouse along with my brother before those monsters had broken into our home."

"They fought back?"

"My father had been a warrior before he became a farmer, he had a bad leg, so couldn't leave with the others for the war. My mother was daughter of a mighty warrior from the village. They both fought bravely, but there were just too many Raiders…"

"What happened to you and your brother?"

"Thorald and I were hiding at the back of the storehouse, behind some barrels. The Raiders had come in, searching for anything that might've still been alive." Sigrid bit her lower lip and her face showed so much pain that Gunnhild reached out to stroke it.

"It's okay, you don't have to continue." Gunnhild watched with concern. She had never seen Sigrid so upset before, not even on the night she had confronted her.

"No, I need you to know this." Sigrid replied sternly, taking a deep breath and continuing. "Thorald didn't want them to find me, so before they had gotten too close, he had leapt out from our hiding spot and ran towards the exit."

"He drew the Raiders away from you."

"He did. And he gave his life for it." Her voice knotted, and tears hit the water she was sitting in. "Sometimes, at night, I can still hear him scream."

Seeing Sigrid this sad nearly broke Gunnhild's heart. She drew the woman close to her and held her as best she could with the rim of wooden tub between them. Sigrid began crying quietly into the hollow of her neck. The blonde gave a comforting kiss on her head and stroked her wet hair.

"We should go have dinner, Birna's probably been waiting." Sigrid sniffed after a while, pulling away and wiping her tears.

Gunnhild nodded and went to get the drying cloth.

* * *

Gunnhild had snuck into Sigrid's room in the middle of the night had snuggled into her lover's arms, sleeping soundly until morning. She wasn't afraid of being found out during the night as long as they didn't make too much noise, and since Sigrid had always been the first one to awake and she'd be waking with her as well.

As predicted, a bit before dawn broke through, Gunnhild felt Sigrid's arm gently slip away from around her. She groaned sleepily and shifted around, burrowing her head into Sigrid's chest. Sigrid let out a soft chuckle and held her again, but only for a little while before lightly shaking her.

"You have to get back to your room."

"I don't want to. I want to be here forever." Gunnhild whined groggily and burrowed deeper, falling back to sleep. It was an adorable sight to witness and it made Sigrid smile.

"Alright, come on…" Sigrid said as she gathered Gunnhild up in her arms and carried her out of her room, down the hallway, into Gunnhild's room and dropping her onto her own bed. The snoozing blonde simply groaned again and wrapped herself in her own blanket, mumbled something and continued sleeping. Sigrid looked over at Leeka, who was sharing the room with Gunnhild. The little brunette was still snoozing away, never knowing that her sister had even left.

Returning to her room, Sigrid changed into a shirt and pants that used to belong to her father, grabbed her scabbard and boots and left.

* * *

"I bet you I can get you on the ground in five strikes!" Kalan challenged. The golden-tressed young man lunged forward and hacked at his adversary.

"Only if you can hit me first!" Sigrid growled good-naturedly, as she swooped her shield aside and jumped backwards, avoiding the strike completely instead of trying to deflect it. "Haha!" She mocked as Kalan's sword hit the ground and sent dirt flying at them both.

"Oh yeah?" Kalan grinned as he lunged again but missing Sigrid once more. Sigrid took the opportunity to swing at him but he blocked it with his shield, the loud clang echoed into field next to the clearing they were fighting in. Startled birds emerged and fluttered away.

"That's two down, Kalan." Sigrid's eyes gleamed with fire. "Can you hit me in three?"

"I'll only need two!" This time, he moved a bit faster and Sigrid was forced to block with her shield. The blow made her sink slightly. She quickly pushed his blade off and slashed twice with her sword, hitting Kalan's shield the first time and then his sword the second time.

"Isn't it a bit early for you to lose against a woman, Kalan?" An amused male voice came from the side.

The two sparring warriors paused to see two older men approach, also bearing shields and weapons, also dressed in plain clothes. One of them had long light brown hair and sported a closely cropped beard while the other had middle-length white hair, and a big white beard. The former carried a spear and a sword while the latter had a large axe.

"I don't see you ever winning a fight against her either, Halfreor." retorted Kalan, he propped his sword on the ground and wiped his face with an already dirty sleeve.

"Halfreor! Olvir! Good to see you two again." Sigrid wiped dirt from her sword with her pants and sheathed it, then coming up to the two men to hug them.

"Glad you decided to show up this morning, Sigrid." Halfreor set his spear and shield on the ground to receive her embrace.

"We were starting to get worried, having not seen you outside of the competition for quite some time now." Olvir agreed, stroking his white beard.

"I have been rather occupied."

"Ah yes, you've been receiving Leif and his family." Olvir nodded in understanding.

"Must be hard sneaking around all the time, or did you tell them?" Halfreor crouched and began polishing his shield.

"I… didn't tell all of them." Sigrid answer rather hesitantly. At that, the three men exchanged slightly confused looks.

"Well, I'm sure in time you'll will." Olvir simply said as he picked up his axe. "Ready to lose against an old man now, Kalan?" He laughed heartily.

"I wasn't losing!" Kalan protested, rising up to the challenge and picked up his sword from the ground, spinning it upright in his hand. The two moved to where Sigrid and he were previous sparring earlier and took their stances.

As they began skirmishing, Sigrid went to sit on the grass and began sharpening her sword. Halfreor neared and plopped down next to her.

"It's the girl isn't it?" He said a while after watching the fight. He noticed Sigrid's rhythmic stroke on the blade hesitate. "I mean, the one you've told."

"Yeah, I told Gunnhild." Sigrid replied sharply, flipped her sword around and continued sharpening the other side.

Halfreor watched the fight quietly for a few moments, seeing Kalan's agile form evade Olvir's blunt blows, but just barely. It was a humorous sight, since the elder warrior was half-laughing as he delivered them while the younger man's face was nearly contorted in effort.

"Sigrid, is there something else?" Halfreor cautiously ventured, sensing the uneasiness building in Sigrid as they broached the subject.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Her answer was sharp, perhaps a bit too quick. The pace of her sharpening quickened, and she determinedly kept her eyes on the sword.

Halfreor sighed and put his hand on hers to stop her from sharpening her sword to the point of setting off sparks.

"I think you do." He cleared his throat, "this isn't the first time you've fallen for… a girl." It was a wild assumption, but seeing Sigrid's reaction made him realize that he had been dead on. Neither he, Olvir or Kalan have minded knowing as well as keeping nearly all of her secrets, but the last time a similar thing happened, it had turned out quite badly.

Sigrid harshly pulled her hand away from the man that she come to known and trust for so many years – someone she thought of as a brother. At the moment, that soothing voice of his voice enraged her. His words brought back a few painful memories.

"I think I've trained enough for today." Getting up, she threw the sharpening stone aside and sheathed her sword. She scooped up her shield and began walking away without saying goodbye or turning back. Halfreor watched her go as he sat there, somewhat stunned but pensive.

None of the three warriors had seen or heard from Sigrid since until the next Tournament day.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Another day of the Tournament was filled with brand new set of seemingly unbeatable challenges and opponents. The arena teemed with people lusting for violence and blood. Gunnhild sat at one of the front rows and she was so close to the competition that she sometimes had to dodge to avoid the blood flying her way. Today, the only other person she sat with was Leeka because neither Leif nor Birna could attend.

The participants were fighting one on one now, the challenges were not as complicated but the fights lasted longer. Today, the competitors had to be on horseback.

The first fight had been between Halfreor and a red-bearded warrior from a different village. Halfreor came away the victor but had been limping when he walked off, because both he and his adversary had knocked each other off their horses and were trampled upon during the fight. The second match was Olvir against a warrior from a village from further west. The elder warrior's horse had trouble running while carrying him because he was a very stout man and his steed was selected for him at random. It did not put him at that much of a disadvantage however, as he deflected his opponent's blows easily. In the end, his brute force had managed to knock his adversary off his horse and he came away the victor.

The third battle, the one which was the most anticipated by Gunnhild as well as the rest of the audience, was Torvald's. He was going up against a warrior from a village from further north.

As Torvald rode up in the golden-maned, Gunnhild felt her heart beginning to race. If this was what it felt like simply as an observer – did Sigrid feel it ten times more underneath that helmet – that mask as Torvald? Was that the kind of rush that kept her going? Was it what drove her to be so angry or did it help her with the anger?

The young blonde's green eyes flicked towards the other side of the Arena. Opposite Torvald sat a stout warrior upon a black horse. His hair and beard were thick and long – blonder than Kalan's if it was even possible. His shield was dull and his leathers were worn; this was a warrior who had seen many battles already. Beneath the helmet, hazel eyes seemed to glow like a pyre. His fitness was wholly justified; he had made it this far in the competition after all.

Gunnhild tensed as she studied on, suddenly getting a strange feeling from this blond warrior. There was just something about the way he carried himself, a slight demeanor that made him seem less glorious and more crazed than the rest of the warriors. Yet, she had no doubt that he was just as ferocious. The sight of his snarl, exposing dark teeth, gave her the shivers.

Torvald and he stared each other down from across the Arena. Neither of the two had as much as twitched, or blinked. In that deadly silence, Gunnhild wondered what state of mind Sigrid had to be in to hold such a gaze. Another a small shiver ran over her as she pondered the darkness that her lover was able to call upon from within.

For just a moment, the thought scared her.

Then suddenly, the silence was broken as the blonde warrior let out a blood curdling shriek like none other Gunnhild had heard before. He unsheathed his sword from the scabbard on his back and jabbed his heels into his black steed. The animal responded at first with a start but soon began charging towards Torvald. Torvald mimicked him by unsheathing his sword and kicked Arsol – though not as harshly – and was off too.

They shot at each another with such speed that it seemed like they never touched when their horses crossed, but the sound of the clanging of metal against metal was unmistakable. Once they reached the far edge of the Arena, they reared their beasts around and charged again. This time, Torvald's sword smashed against the other warrior's shield. The sound at first echoed throughout the Arena but was quickly muffled by cheers of encouragement. The blonde warrior's sword had missed his mark while he braced himself against the hit.

They reached opposite ends of the Arena again and turned around for another go. This time the blonde warrior did something unexpected and whistled. Two guards who were standing at the side of the Arena suddenly ran towards the center and each launched a rope at Torvald. Gunnhild watched with horror, as the lines tightened around Arsol's legs, the steel hooks at the end of them dug into the mare's flesh. Arsol neighed in pain and crashed forward with her legs bucked together. Torvald was sent flying forward.

The crowd collectively gasped.

The dark warrior landed quite a distance away from the mare, but not without bouncing off the ground a few times, and tumbling while bending somewhat unnaturally at a few places. She did eventually roll to a stop, and remained unmoving. The man challenging him had quickly dismounted, but instead of checking on the dark warrior's state like any good sportsman would, he kicked Sigrid's body over to make her lie on her backside. The half-conscious warrior responded with a pained groan but made no attempt to get up. The blonde warrior methodically sat on Torvald's body, holding her throat down with one arm, partially cutting off Torvald's breathing while pulling out a curved dagger from behind his back.

"He's got a second weapon!" Someone suddenly cried.

"That's illegal!" Another one boomed in as Halfreor, Olvir and Kalan began charging into the Arena along with two other participants of the competition.

The renegade hastily slashed at the straps and ripped away Torvald's armor, and in his hurry failing to notice the rather slender form revealed underneath. His prey was already too weak and broken to fight back or protest. That was all he cared about. Torvald had to die.

The half-crazed blonde warrior raised his dagger, "This is for all my brothers that you have killed, Torvald!" He brought the weapon down hardly.

The scream that came out of Torvald was unlike any other, and its effect swept across the entire Arena like a wave, shocking everyone. Within moments, the crowd roared in consternation and outrage.

Gunnhild's scream nearly matched the dark warrior's, out of the sheer terror that seized her. It felt almost as if she had just been stabbed too.

The blonde began desperately seeking a way out of her row of benches and down towards Sigrid but was unable to in her blind panic. Everyone around her bustled; most were still shouting angrily, some tried to get onto the battling ground while others were hopping off their benches angrily but not sure of which direction to go.

Unfazed by the commotion, the renegade competitor pulled the curved dagger out sharply, which caused his victim to emit a gurgling scream again. It was fairly clear he had intentions to bring it down a second time.

Luckily, before the second strike was made, Kalan had come close enough and lunged at the attacker. He swung his large double-edged sword against the assailant's stomach with so much force that it knocked him off of Sigrid, and nearly cut him in half. Almost forgetting the assailant instantly, he dropped to his knees at her side, taking her helmet off her head and tossing it aside.

The blonde attacker remained unmoving. His other two accomplices tried to flee but were immediately confronted by the business end of Halfreor's and Olvir's weapons. They were shortly sent to the ground as well and their arms were pulled behind their backs. Another man quickly arrived onto the scene to check on Arsol, who had been neighing and thrashing her head about wildly while struggling with the rope and hooks around her bleeding legs.

Gunnhild had finally gotten out of the human mess after having told Leeka to go home. She rushed to where Sigrid was, falling to her knees at the her lover's side. She felt something distinctly rising at the back of her throat as she saw all the blood; it was spreading across the tunic Sigrid wore, it was on the ground around her, and it was all over Kalan's hands. It was impossible to even tell where the wound was.

"By the name of Thor, Sigrid…" Tears were already flooding out of the young woman's eyes as she felt terrified and helpless at the sight.

Hearing her name, Sigrid's head seemed to turn around lifelessly in the mass of raven hair, her face had already gotten incredibly pale.

"Gunn-" Weakly, she tried raising her hand as she spoke but coughed out blood instead and her face contorted with pain. Her pale blue eyes rolled back and her face slumped to the side.

"Is she…?" A new wave of panic seized Gunnhild.

"No." Kalan said firmly as he felt the weak pulse on Sigrid's neck. "But we need to get her to the healer quickly." He slipped his arms under Sigrid and hoisted up her limp body. With Gunnhild following closely, they made for the exit of the Arena as Halfreor joined them.

"How is she?" The brown-bearded man asked, his brows furrowed with concern. Gunnhild was slightly surprised that both men had already known that Torvald had been Sigrid all along.

"She's barely breathing, we need to get her to Svana fast."

* * *

Svana was by far not the only healer, but she was the best in the village. When she had asked for some privacy after Sigrid had been set down on her healing table, the two men and Gunnhild were ushered into a separate room and they sat impatiently. The smell of Sigrid's blood from their clothes only added to the apprehension they all felt.

"You must be Gunnhild." The bearded man finally said, after a long moment of awkward silence. "I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances."

Gunnhild looked towards him and her eyes were met with the gentlest pair of browns she had ever seen. Immediately she felt she could trust this man and she nodded in response. She wasn't sure about how much he knew about her however, and didn't want to reveal anything Sigrid had wanted to keep secret, so she dropped her eyes to her hands again, fidgeting.

"I've seen the way she looks up at the audience at you. We know Sigrid values you greatly."

Gunnhild glanced at him warily, unsure of the meaning behind his words. He offered her a sympathetic smile. She looked to Kalan, who also nodded at her knowingly. She relaxed a little.

Before any of them could say anything else, Olvir entered the room. Seeing Halfreor and Kalan stood at the sight of the elder warrior, Gunnhild did the same.

"How is she?" The older warrior had just finished dealing with the renegades and had raced to the healer's place; the perspiration on his brow was apparent. Gunnhild observed the exchange between them, clearly these men were the closest thing to a family Sigrid had.

"We do no know yet." Kalan said somberly. "Svana has been at it for a long time now."

"What news of the attackers?" Halfreor asked.

"The three renegades turned out to be Raiders." The other three tensed, Gunnhild even let out a small gasp. How could they have gotten so close and be among them without anyone noticing?

"We have them imprisoned in hopes of getting information out of them later."

"These monsters will stop at nothing before they kill us all!" Kalan clearly looked enraged.

The sound of a throat clearing made them turn to the healer standing by the door. Svana's robes were stained with blood as she wiped her hands on her apron.

"She's going to live," She announced to all those present and anxious, "but she won't be able to fight for a while."

* * *

"Did you check Arsol's bandages?" Sigrid grimaced at the last spoonful of porridge she tasted and shook her head at the next spoonful offered. Svana's strict diets were beginning to wear down on her sanity.

"Yes, Sigrid." Gunnhild reassured her, setting the bowl on the floor next to the bed and gave her a pat. "You need to stop worrying; she's doing better than you are."

The last few days had been tough for them all, surprisingly not because she had been stabbed by a Raider but because her true identity had been revealed.

"Why don't you tell me one of your stories?" Sigrid tried changing the subject. Her face might have been pale, but her voice still held that conviction she always seemed to possess. A slither of light cut across the side of her face, peeking in from a hole in her bedroom curtain and she squinted at it whenever her eye was in it. Gunnhild found that reaction strangely endearing.

"Sigrid, you need to rest." Then young blonde pulled the blankets up to tuck her lover in. She sat on the ledge of the bed and stroked the injured warrior's hair. Gunnhild liked telling stories but she also knew, from the few occasions that she did tell one, that Sigrid would listen to them way too intently, and that would surely wear her out.

"But your stories help me sleep." The bed-ridden warrior pouted.

"Are you saying my stories are boring?" Gunnhild teased, a slight smirk forming.

Sigrid chuckled but immediately winced in pain. Gunnhild frowned and felt sorry for making her laugh. She watched her warmly and kept stroking her hair as Sigrid closed her eyes and began dozing off.

"Gunnhild." Her father's voice called from downstairs.

"I'll be right back." Gunnhild whispered as she placed a kiss on her lover's forehead. Sigrid replied with a soft snore.

Gunnhild headed out the room and downstairs. She noticed the somber expression on her father's face, apparently there was going to be more bad news.

"What is it?"

"Daughter, we are going back to our village." The father said, addressing to the floor.

A beat. Gunnhild could've sworn she heard wrong.

"What?"

"We will be leaving at sunrise tomorrow." His voice was stern, unappealingly old.

"But who's going to take care of Sigrid?"

Leif's eyes shot up at her, his gaze was cold. "Sigrid can take care of herself. And her male companions can help her."

"Father, Sigrid needs us now more than ever." Gunnhild argued. "She needs our help around the house and-"

"Not at the expense of corrupting our family!" The words suddenly exploded at her from nowhere. They made her recoil slightly.

"Corrupting? What are you talking about? She has been nothing but hospitable to us since-" Then she realized what her father meant, "Is this about her being Torvald?"

"It's about her pretending to be a man and taking advantage of our daughter." He shot back, clearly disgusted. Gunnhild blinked, and wondered whether he was more disgusted by Sigrid or by her. How much about them did he really know, or realize? Was he simply bothered by their closeness or had he suspected there had been something more?

"She is not well, Gunnhild. Her mind is ill and she's making you sick too. It's best that we get you away from her."

It was a strange feeling, but those words made something inside Gunnhild boil. She suddenly felt as disgusted by Leif as he was by her. "She is a human being, and she needs our help."

"For the love of Odin child, can't you see that what she is doing to you is not normal?" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Stop this nonsense now, we will leave by dawn!"

"I will not leave her!" She shook off his grasp, tears began welling around her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was out of desperation or anger. At this point, she knew she only had one thing to say and she was going to say and she already knew the consequences of her words.

"I love her."

Staring defiantly at her father, she saw the shock in his eyes. She wasn't sure if it was that, or the look of revulsion that followed that made her more upset.

Leif looked away, clearly conflicted. But when he looked back at her, his eyes held no mercy.

"Then you are no longer our daughter."

He turned from her, and began walking away.

It was only when he was out of sight that Gunnhild felt her knees give and she hit the floor with a strangled sigh. Quiet sobs that seemed unlike her own ensued from the back of her throat.

She was going to miss Mother and Leeka. Who knew she could lose two families in one lifetime.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Seasons changed and the moon has come and gone through many cycles. The Great Tournament had ended with the victor being some warrior from a nearby village. Neither Olvir, Halfreor or Kalan had the heart to fight after what had happened to Sigrid and many warriors had quit the competition even, fearing they might encounter a similar fate.

Things seemed to be quiet.

Just like many times before for the past seasons, Gunnhild tucked Sigrid in. She gave her lover a tender kiss on the forehead followed by an even more tender one on the lips. The dark warrior had been bed ridden for quite some time now, but Svana's predictions were that she would soon see a full recovery.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?"

"I'll be fine," Sigrid reassured, and at the uncertain look Gunnhild gave, she insisted, "Really."

"Ok…" Gunnhild retreated from the edge of the bed, "I'll just be in the garden, if you need anything..." She seemed reluctant to depart, but the snowing season has gone and those gardens weren't going to take care of themselves.

Sigrid gave an avid nod. "Go."

"Alright, alright." Gunnhild mumbled as she left the room and headed for the stairs.

After a few minutes of intent listening, Sigrid flipped the covers away and hopped off the bed, straightened the slacks and a shirt she had fit for riding. She tip toed across the room, she carefully pulled her closet doors open and took out a sword held by a belt. Today was going to be a good day, she decided, she was going to do some riding and maybe some sword practice.

Shutting the closet door as gently as she cool, she tiptoed back across the room and made her way down the hall all the while fastening to her belt, making sure to step on all the planks of wood she knew wouldn't creek. Swiftly, she glided down the stair case and was sure to be home free, until she turned towards the side door only to find Gunnhild standing there, arms crossed and foot tapping. Her face showed that she wasn't anywhere near happy.

Sigrid froze, the look on her face was not unlike that of an animal who had suddenly been spotted.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Sigrid hadn't counted on being caught and she didn't like that she had to explain herself.

"I… uh…"

"Sigrid, we talked about this. You need to rest to recover."

"I know… I know…" Sigrid pouted, "but it's been two seasons already! I can ride and fight just fine."

"Svana said you needed more time."

"Svana doesn't know how fast I heal."

"By Thor, Sigrid! How long have you been sneaking off like this?"

Sigrid's lips thinned as she looked away in guilt, which made Gunnhild's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Mumbled words escaped from the armed woman's lips but it was barely comprehensible. It was almost ironic how a young defenseless woman such as Gunnhild would be able to make someone like Sigrid stand there and bite her lips nervously.

The silence answered for Sigrid, telling Gunnhild that it had been for more than long enough. She sighed disappointedly.

"Sigrid, what if you had gotten hurt again?"

The taller woman stepped towards her, taking on a defiant tone. "But I didn't."

Gunnhild further closed the gap between them.

"But what if you did?"

A smirk seemed to spread across Sigrid's lips, breaking the tension. Her eyes took on a dangerous gleam. "Is that a threat?" Her voice had turned low, alluringly husky. Her hand was already on Gunnhild's waist, drawing her closer.

"What if it is?" A similar smile appeared on Gunnhild. Sigrid's mischievous thoughts were apparently contagious.

"Well, I think one of us should be punished." Sigrid said, dropping her shield off to the side and swept Gunnhild up into her arms in one quick motion.

"Hmm…" Gunnhild agreed as Sigrid began carrying her back up the stairs, any thoughts of scolding her lover vanished.

Sigrid finally didn't sneak out to practice fighting and riding that day.

* * *

The next day, the two had decided to officially break away from their confinement at the villa. Despite Sigrid's and now also Gunnhild's three loyal friends, along with their constant aid about the house and the consistent renewal of their provisions, it was a nice change to run a little of these errands on their own. Sigrid's seemed to be healing faster than expected after all, and Gunnhild was only too glad to see the life reappear in her lover's eyes from being able to roam freely again.

As they entered the market, Sigrid helped Gunnhild down Arsol and handed her the basket. She then hopped down herself and followed behind the blonde, leading her mare by the reigns. Ever since the tournament, more and more people in the village came to know about Sigrid's alter ego, but chose to stay quiet about the subject, content with keeping their heads low when passing by her. Whether they were staying out of her way because they knew Torvald was one of the most vicious fighters, or because they knew she was courting the young blonde walking beside her did nothing to deter either of the two young women.

They halted before a fruit stand, and Gunnhild began picking out some apples and oranges. While shed commented about the importance of picking the exact ripeness of the fruit, Sigrid, who had been listening half heartedly, eyed two men in warrior attires approaching them. Gunnhild had soon noticed their presence as well and turned to face them after paying off the merchant she had been bargaining with.

"We bring news from the South Eastern frontiers, Great Torvald." He hesitated before correcting himself, "Sigrid."

"The frontiers? What are you talking about?" Sigrid frowned. Millions of possibilities involving the frontiers sprang to mind, and all of them had something to do with the Raiders.

"They suggested we speak to you as well as Lord Olvir." The other man gestured down the market's central path.

"Then I must have an audience with Olvir as well." Sigrid said as she climbed onto Arsol and offered an arm to the man who addressed her. "Can you meet us at Olvir's by foot, Gunnhild?"

"Yes Sigrid, go." Gunnhild replied hastily, sensing all too well the severity of the situation in the urgency of her companion's voice. She'd never think twice about holding Sigrid back.

"My comrade will escort her by foot." The messenger nodded.

Sigrid returned the nod, reared Arsol about and galloped in the direction of Olvir's residence.

By the time Gunnhild and the warrior arrived at Olvir's house, Sigrid had just walked out front door with the elder warrior. Even from afar, Gunnhild could tell by their rapid exchanges that she wasn't going to like the news. As she neared them, she greeted Olvir.

"So, what's the good word?" She attempted, even though she really was afraid to hear any words coming from either of them at the moment.

Both the white bearded man and Sigrid exchanged looks that could've told an entire moon's worth of stories. Olvir excused himself promptly and left Sigrid alone with Gunnhild.

Whatever it was, Gunnhild was fairly certain it was something she would dread hearing for days to come. The look in Sigrid sad blue eyes was already enough seize her heart with a mild form of panic; she could've sworn she was already feeling the ache from it breaking.

She looked at Sigrid half-expectantly, but Sigrid had quickly averted her eyes and broken off the gaze that had said too much.

"Let's go home." Sigrid tiredly climbed up Arsol and offered her a hand.

* * *

They had not shared a single word with one another until dinner time. Sigrid was pensive, lost in her conflicted thoughts while Gunnhild simply chose to give her time. The little blonde soon found herself not to be the most patient being in the world, and began to feel a growing apprehension nagging at her.

Midway through their dinner, the constant churning within the dark haired woman's mind had finally come to a halt, or had at least taken a breather. She set her utensil down beside her half-empty plate.

"Gunnhild, I have something I have to discuss with you."

Gunnhild looked at her, and set her own fork down. She straightened in her seat, taking a deep breath and prepared for the news.

"There's a war going on at the frontiers, against the Raiders." Sigrid started slowly, "If all goes well, we should be able to push them back far enough for a very long time…"

She paused to see if Gunnhild was following, but her very intelligent lover already saw where this was going.

"Halfreor and Kalan are already there fighting at the front with many recruits from the surrounding villages, but they're not enough, they're going to need reinforcements."

"And they asked if you could be part of that reinforcement."

It sounded a lot more complicated in Sigrid's mind when she had been turning it over, but Gunnhild had put it so bluntly. Both the bitterness in her lover's voice and the simplicity in the statement caught her slightly off guard.

"Yes." She admitted, wondering why she suddenly felt so guilty.

"That's not fair, Sigrid." The young blonde's palm hit the table abruptly to emphasize her point, but it made them both jump. "They know you had just barely recovered from your injury, they couldn't simply ask you to-"

"I am more than capable of fighting and they know that." Sigrid reacted badly to Gunnhild's aggressive tone but quickly checked herself. "You've seen that yourself, I'm completely healed. They would not have asked, otherwise."

"Couldn't they send someone else?"

"Gunnhild," Sigrid's hand gently settled on top of Gunnhild's. "They need me. I am one of their best fighters, and I have been trained to organize troops. They will need every able body they can get to win this war. Think about it, this could mean peace for our villages for decades to come!"

By the time Sigrid had finished talking, tears were already streaming down Gunnhild's rosy cheeks.

"But it's not fair to me, Sigrid." She sniffed; this was her last point, her main argument. "I don't want you to go."

"It's not fair to anyone one." She gave Gunnhild's hand an encouraging squeeze, her own dark brows furrowed in clear sadness. "So many men are leaving their wives and their children to fight this war. But it's for the greater good."

* * *

It has been hours now since the sun has set, but neither of the two women was able to sleep. Sigrid was lying still, simply focusing on her breathing while Gunnhild stirred back and forth. After a couple of turns, the young blonde had finally given up and had simply settled on her side, facing her lover.

"Sigrid?" She said, tentatively, hand reaching out to her. Her slender fingers were soon found entwined with the other woman's. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"If you were gone, I don't think I'd ever be able to love again."

Sigrid's head turned to face her and the glint from the moonlight caught a sign of tears forming at the edge of her eyes. Without ever letting go of Gunnhild's hand, she turned to face her, and gave her love's hand a kiss full of devotion.

"Don't say that." Sigrid whispered, almost as if her words might disturb the intimacy at that moment if she spoke too loudly. "If I were gone, I'll want to know that you'll be happy." She sighed. "You'd fall in love again, believe me."

Sigrid's piercing blue eyes regarded Gunnhild's, and the sadness seemed to flow freely between their souls. Part of Sigrid was so touched at the fact that Gunnhild would say something of the sort and truly meant it, but part of her didn't want her lover to suffer as much as she did. Gunnhild must've seen right through her, or must've learned to read her mind over the seasons she has spent at the villa.

"Sigrid… Have you ever been in love… before me?"

Gunnhild's eyes were surprisingly dry. If anything, she almost sounded a bit distanced. Sigrid blinked, fighting tears; she almost didn't want to open them as she said those words, for fear of the expression she'd catch on Gunnhild's face.

"I have."

"Was it a woman?"

Sigrid could've lied, but at this point, she didn't deem it even possible to make anything less painful. "Yes."

Gunnhild fell silent and Sigrid thought that might've been the end of her questioning – because she knew if the young blonde continued, she'd be getting to the hardest part. Gunnhild's gaze had drifted off deep in thought and Sigrid was beginning to think that one of them might be falling asleep after all. She slowly closed her eyes, but then:

"What happened?"

Sigrid had let out another deep sigh, which made Gunnhild wary as to whether she had pushed too far. But the young blonde had to know. She did let herself consider the possibility that she might never see Sigrid ever again and she wanted to have clear memories of her – the good as well as the bad. They were going to keep her alive real in her heart.

"She broke my heart." Sigrid answered simply, considering whether she wanted to elaborate. After a brief moment of thought, she realized she didn't. She'd like to know that there would still be things to be shared when she returned from the war. That she will be returning to share them.

"Just sleep now." She gave Gunnhild a kiss on the forehead.

"Sigrid, please stay here." Gunnhild whispered as a last effort, she searched for a sign that she might've maybe just convinced her lover with that last effort.

Sigrid stared back resolutely, but her eyes softened as she leaned in.

The two exchanged kisses that soon escalated passionately. Slowly Sigrid slid a hand beneath the folds of Gunnhild's nightdress and while they held each other tightly and moved together, both their breaths became ragged as moans escaped from their lips.

Later, the sounds were replaced by the quiet of the night. Gunnhild had fallen asleep in Sigrid's arms, but Sigrid couldn't find it in herself to shut her eyes. She wanted to cherish every last moment she was going to spend with her lover.

"I'll always be here." She whispered, pulling the sleeping Gunnhild closer, kissing her hair. "Even in death."

* * *

_**Up Next: The concluding chapter + the epilogue**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_(Song: __**Farewell**__ by Apocalyptica)_

It was dawn and the sun slowly crept to the horizon, an emerging source of light and warmth that began shedding light on the encampment. The smokes were from fires that were just starting to die out but new ones were already being lit.

The warriors and fighters awoke and arose; the camp began bustling with noises of battle preparations being made. A great many were tired because they were battle weary, a couple were tired because they had not slept. All of them knew they had to keep going no matter what. Some fought with hopes of returning to their loved ones soon while others fought for future chances of being in love.

Along with the sun, an army of riders rose into sight from over the hills. The marching shadows approached the encampment at a languid but paced speed.

Halfreor had been making plans with Kalan along with a few other warriors when the arrival of the reinforcements had been announced. The small group soon moved to welcome the newly present.

As the small army reached the camp, it dispersed on its own, each warrior finding friends among the current occupants to help them with their belongings and horses.

Sigrid was at the head of the troop and had just marched on towards the group of warriors greeting her before dismounting. She was with a giant bear hug by Kalan and a few respected nods from the others.

"It's good to see you old friend," Halfreor said, clasping her hands in his and observed Sigrid in the light of dawn, noticing the play of emotions across her eyes. "I'm sorry to have taken you away from her."

* * *

The small army that has now grown twice its original size marched up to the plains and regarded the sea of Raiders opposing them. As they halted, the horses neighed uneasily and stamped their hooves.

There was no wind, and the sun was semi-occluded by the thick layers of traveling clouds. A deathly silent blanket had already settled upon both uneasy and opposing masses.

Leading the army of the Northern villages were the three at the frontline, with Sigrid sitting on Arsol in the middle, flanked by Halfreor on one side and Kalan on the other, both also on horsebacks.

"Are you ready for this, my friend?" The dark bearded man looked over at Sigrid.

Sigrid regarded him for a moment, then turned to Kalan. The two exchanged a knowing smile and she looked back to Halfreor.

"We're ready."

They raised their weapons and charged.

* * *

The rhythmic sound of the ocean crashing into the rocks below was soothing. The ocean, though basked in the same dark glumness she felt, seemed so much more peaceful. She envied that peace because at that moment, her heart was constantly dying in a thousand violent ways. She wished to have that peace she knew she'd never get.

For an instant, she willed the ocean to transfer it to her, just as futilely as she had willed for Sigrid to return home to her safely.

It had been almost an entire season now. They had won the war against the Raiders but had lost many of their finest warriors. Amongst those who were lost and to be remembered were Halfreor and Kalan, and Torvald. A scowl formed at the edge of Gunnhild's lips, Sigrid didn't even die in her real name.

Apparently, news from survivors of the battle told of a godly presence, a fierce warrior who had arrived when they were at the verge of losing their line. Not only did he drive the enemies back, but he had devised strategies after strategies afterwards to take out the most prominent adversarial troops. It had been rather unfortunate that some of the more desperate measures involved the greatest sacrifices.

Gunnhild was almost certain that Sigrid alone was the reason the Northern Villages finally stood victorious against the Raiders, pushing them back into the south and into exile for decades to come. Without the reinforcements that Sigrid led to the front, the people there probably wouldn't have stood a chance. That much Gunnhild had to admit to herself, that it was all justified and not in vain.

None of it all really meant anything to her, however. Not anymore. Part of her died the day she saw her warrior princess stride off, because she knew she wouldn't be coming back.

Closing her eyes, she recalled fairly clearly the day a figure on a horse rode towards the villa. She didn't even try to feel hopeful. Simply by looking the gait of the horse and its rider, she knew it wasn't Arsol or Sigrid.

She had prepared herself. Honestly, she had. Still the tears came as naturally as the wind blowing and the snow falling when the man delivered the unfortunate news. Still there were cries of anguish, and sleepless nights, and days without meaning.

Gunnhild stood at the edge of the cliff; her lifeless eyes scanned the horizon, almost as if expecting the burial boats to float in from the waters. Where one of them would be empty and would drift ashore to welcome her, with promises of bringing her to the same place Sigrid had gone.

"Even in death…" she whispered as she closed her eyes, feeling an almost familiar breeze wrap around her.

Though she had never heard those words before, she felt as though those she had been listening to them since forever.

She opened her arms and plunged to the rocks below.

* * *

**Epilogue**

"By the _Gods_! NO!" Gabrielle choked and whimpered, then realized she had been sobbing in her sleep. She cried out instinctively.

"No!" Still confused by her sleepiness, she gasped, coughed and thrashed, all the while trying to get her bearings at the same time. All she knew was that the feeling of loss she felt at that very moment was near unbearable. "Xena!" She couldn't lose her. "XENA!" She practically shrieked. Not this way.

"It's alright, Gabrielle!" Xena's voice. Strong familiar arms quickly encircled her petite form and closed around her flailing arms, holding them down steadily but not forceful enough to cause injury.

Simply hearing the warrior's voice had already made the young bard less bewildered.

"I'm here, it's alright…" Xena's voice carried deeper as she attempted to soothe her companion, while the small blonde stopped struggling and began crying quietly.

Gabrielle was unable to understand why she was acting this way – all she knew was that she felt awful. Xena, looking almost heartbroken, held her tightly while gently stroking her soft flaxen hair, trying to calm her sobs. It was visible from the wet streaks on the warrior's face – though less abundant than Gabrielle's – that she had just been crying in her sleep as well.

The bard took a few short deep breaths as reality began to settle in and the haze from the dream began clear. They were at the grassy clearing they found earlier before settling for the night; the fire they made had already burnt out and the two were sitting in the dark. The feel of the bedroll beneath her as she shifted reminded her of where she was, or rather, who she was.

Forcing her breathing back to normal, Gabrielle swallowed hard. "Xena, I just had the worst dream…" She whispered, tightening her arms around the other woman; she had to make sure that the dream was a dream and that this wasn't – that in this reality and Xena was still there. Her gesture was reciprocated as the two sat motionless in the obscurity.

"I know." The warrior finally said, her voice was slightly dry and unsteady, but filled with complete understanding.

Gabrielle pulled away from Xena and searched for her eyes. The pale irises glinted in the soft moonlight and smiled at her. The bard was unable to distinguish much else except maybe for a faint outline of Xena's face.

"You mean…"

There was some hesitation. "…Yes." Gabrielle sensed Xena nodding in the dark.

"Were you…?"

"I was."

"And I must've have been…"

"Yep."

She let go of Xena, reflecting on the new meaning behind this revelation. The warrior princess propped herself on her elbow, studying her friend as she let it all sink in. The two sat in silence, contemplating alone but together.

"Their life was so sad…" The bard finally breathed. "What do you think it all means?" She almost started tearing up again as she thought about the dream.

"I don't know." Xena said simply. She honestly didn't want to mull over it too much. She shifted about and rearranged the fur blankets. "Let's just go back to sleep, okay?" She had settled back down onto the bedroll even before finishing the sentence.

After a bit, Gabrielle followed suit.

As she laid down, she sensed Xena's strong arm wrap around her waist and pulling her in. The blonde's body molded comfortably to the warm, elongated form. Though neither of them spoke a word, Gabrielle knew that Xena didn't fall asleep right away.

"Xena?" Gabrielle ventured.

"Hmm?" A low growl, the warrior sounded like was starting her journey to Morpheus' land already.

"They were just like us, weren't they?"

There was silence as Xena thought about it; she wasn't sure what Gabrielle meant exactly and wasn't sure how to answer. She simply pulled the other woman in closer and buried her face into the strawberry blonde hair, knowing at that instant, that she wouldn't let go of that familiar scent for the world.

"Soulmates." Gabrielle explained, sensing almost immediately Xena's answer through the beat of the warrior's heart against her back.

"Yeah," Xena finally said, delivering a gentle kiss on Gabrielle's head and the feeling of it seemed to spread down the bard's entire body, enveloping her like a protective shell of love. "I guess they were."

**THE END**

* * *

("Without You" From **RENT**, the Soundtrack.)

_Without you, the ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows. _

_Without you, the seeds root, the flowers bloom, the children play. _

_The stars gleam, the poets dream, the eagles fly, without you. _

_The earth turns, the sun burns, but I die, without you. _

_Without you, the breeze warms, the girl smiles, the cloud moves. _

_Without you, the tides change, the boys run, the oceans crash. _

_The crowds roar, the days soar, the babies cry, without you. _

_The moon glows, the river flows, but I die, without you._


End file.
